


Heaven In Hiding

by MontyGreen (SherlockedCastiel)



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Stripper/Exotic Dancer, Artist Clarke Griffin, Bartender!Clarke, Bartenders, Bellamy Blake is a History & Mythology Nerd, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Smut, F/M, Past Clarke Griffin/Lexa, Past Finn Collins/Clarke Griffin, Slow Burn, Strippers & Strip Clubs, Students, stripper!bellamy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-19
Updated: 2019-07-15
Packaged: 2020-01-16 15:40:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 35,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18524530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SherlockedCastiel/pseuds/MontyGreen
Summary: Clarke has been around people wanting to take her clothes off for years, considering it an occupational hazard of bar-tending in a strip club filled with drunk, horny people. However, the clubs new dancer isn't getting under her clothes, but under her skin.





	1. Meet the New Guy

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! I hope you enjoy this fic, I really liked writing it even if it is far from perfect. It's been a while since I wrote any bellarke stuff.   
> Couple of things - this fic has kinda minor other relationships, some that aren't canon in the show. This isn't because I don't like the relationships on the show, or the characters, I just felt like I wanted to write the relationships I wanted in this fiction. Hope it's nothing you guys don't like.   
> This fiction will have no spoilers, especially not for the new season coming out! 
> 
> I am not American, so some of my language and spelling is probably not going to match up to the American way, although I'll do my best. Apologies if I get anything wrong about American culture, such as college structure, if you let me know, I'll do my best to correct it! 
> 
> Lastly, this fic will have some darker/more serious moments but it's mainly just fun. It will get nsfw, but I can't tell you when because that would ruin the surprise. Right now, I'll just say at some point. I'll do my best to have these sections easily skippable just in case smut isn't your cup of tea.

Clarke absent-mindedly swiped down the surfaces of the sticky bar, an action she had done too often to need to pay attention. She allowed herself to get lost in the terrible music that her boss insisted on playing as people left, with its repetitive vocals and club base. The sound technician hated it too, so at least Clarke knew she was in good company.

Her feet throbbed from running around all evening, the soft trainers that usually supported her useless against the constant and arguably pointless work she’d been doing for hours. She inhaled, hoping a deep breath would calm her, but the scent of sweaty, hormonal customers caught in her nose. Grimacing, she continued to work on the last few spots on the bar. The dulled lights still reflected in fragments along its surface, and Clarke found her reminiscing about the days she used to appreciate such a thing. When she’d begun working here, everything seemed so bright and exciting. Now even the music sounded like a warning alarm.

As the night came to an end, she nodded at a few of the last customers who were slowly leaving. However, she purposely moved into the stock room while a large group of six drunken idiots obnoxiously scooted past. 

“Oi, where’s the…the…” A tall brunette lad who’d been far too focused on Clarke’s chest earlier clicked his fingers around the air. His voice boomed out, unafraid. His friends jeered him on, a group of vultures patiently waiting for the hunter to make a kill. The kind of boys that eagerly awaited the leftovers of the women this man would pick from his teeth. Clarke refused to be prey.

“Hello? Hot blonde barmaid?” Clarke grimaced at the term barmaid, remaining silent. She remained in the stock room until she heard the men leave, their attention spans too poor for them to remain a problem for long. Then she got back to her routine, knowing she would be stuck there for a while. Yet again she’d had to manage the bar alone, as Wells had called in “sick”. She understood he was busy, but she’d sent him a colourfully worded text earlier. It wasn’t the easiest job in the world by yourself, and as understanding as she was regarding Wells’ current situation with the police, she knew it raised suspicion with management when he was never around.

She looked around at the club, the stage with its three poles looking a little worse for wear, with confetti, fabric and a fuck-load of glitter everywhere as always. A general feeling of melancholy accompanied the place, an odd juxtaposition when contrasted with the intentions of the Hidden Heaven. The club was designed to be joyful, filled with life and brimming with sexual freedom yet it felt so forced.

The faded stage curtain moved apart and Jasper came out wearing a t-shirt and jeans as opposed to his smart waiter shirt he’d been dressed in before. His usually messy hair was wet, which confused Clarke for a moment. Despite the presence of showers for dancers, they were not popular as a result of their mediocre warmth and water pressure.

“Some damned over excited bride-to-be hugged me against her breasts.” Jasper said, gesturing up at his hair. “She was covered in so much fake tan she nearly dyed my hair orange. I had to get it out.”

“Rough crowd?” Clarke knew what bridal parties were like.

“I could definitely use a drink.” Jasper shook his shoulders and hands as if trying to shake off the night while Clarke started to prepare his usual. The drinks were so familiar to her she could switch off her brain while she made him something.

She thought for a moment, and realised there was something missing from this situation. As almost as if he was prompted, Clarke heard footsteps approaching from the backroom and Monty, their sound technician and lighting guy walked in.

“Oh hey!” Monty chirped in his singsong voice, as if he was surprised to see the two of them there. Clarke knew Jasper couldn’t see her, so she rolled her eyes with a grin on her face. Monty was too cute. With his sleek, long black hair and sweetheart face with rounded cheeks, you couldn’t not love him. He was the kind of person you knew could handle anything, but you wanted to protect them anyway. His pure, optimistic soul was too precious to be tainted.

“Hello Monty, don’t suppose I could get you a drink as well?” She watched as Monty nodded enthusiastically, thanking her before carefully choosing a seat one away from Jasper. Even Clarke noticed his eyes flickered over to Jasper when he was looking the other way, and she wondered how oblivious one person could be.

“Nice set tonight.” Jasper joked, playfully giving Monty a thumbs-up. “I still think your talents are wasted up in that room though, why not join me on the stage?” Monty snorted awkwardly, looking down at the floor.

“Yeah right, I can hardly take off my shoes in front of strangers.” Monty took a sip of his whiskey that Clarke had poured him. “Besides, I don’t exactly look the part.” He gestured to his face, and Clarke resisted the urge to correct him, knowing he'd care more if Jasper said something. 

“Don’t sell yourself short Green.” Jasper winked at him, and Clarke swore she could see Monty go a little pink in his cheeks. Jasper excused himself to use the bathroom, promising to Clarke that he would do a quick check in there to see if it needed an extra cleaning before opening tomorrow. As soon as Jasper was out of earshot, Clarke threw a tea towel at Monty who swore at her, trying to throw it back but missing as he was flustered.

“Real subtle.” She teased, drinking her own drink and feeling the acidity hit the back of her throat.

“Oh, shut up, I can’t help it.” Monty stared at the space Jasper had just occupied. “I’ve known him too long to do anything about...anything.” Clarke raised her eyebrows, sighing because they’d had this conversation so many times with no avail.

She was fully aware Jasper and Monty had been friends forever, and she was almost certain Jasper was straight but she wished Monty would say something, if not for closure than anything else. She watched him moon over Jasper night after night while Jasper had women throwing themselves at him while he was nearly naked and performing. It wasn’t a healthy situation to be in, and she wanted to make sure Monty wasn’t hurting himself by tolerating it because he feared the conversation too much.

“I’m just saying, you wouldn’t lose anything. Jasper is a relaxed guy.” Clarke knew him well enough to know how much Jasper cared for his friends.  

Clarke had to admire Jasper. His job wasn’t easy for anybody, but Jasper wasn’t exactly what you’d picture when you heard “stripper”. He didn’t have muscles anywhere but his arms really, and he claimed those were from just working with his arms at the college doing engineering. He wasn’t the best dancer at all, and refused to learn any of the fancier moves despite being offered extra classes from the trainer. He was relatively goofy, and didn’t hide it on stage, but he just had a confidence the crowd loved. Hell, he was probably the only dancer Clarke actually watched if she could because it was just fun. He was a laugh, and his personality shone through every act, which is why people enjoyed his performances so much.

“One day.” Monty said quietly, looking a little disheartened. Clarke hadn’t known Monty as long, but they’d become friends quickly. Jasper had gotten Monty the job after the last technician left. He enjoyed the money, and loved the people, but he didn’t fit in very well. Clarke wondered if Jasper left, whether Monty would too. Monty hated the drunkenness of visitors, he hated the crowds, and he didn’t like the basic technician things he had to do. He was always complaining that it bored him. Still, he was good at it, and they’d never had a problem since he’d arrived about 6 months ago.

Jasper came back before Clarke had the chance to ask if Monty was alright. His feet were dragging, his body not filled with his usual relentless energy. Jasper had pulled a double that night because they were at least one dancer short. Clarke knew Jaha was trying to get a few more male dancers, but it was difficult. A lot of people judged the job before they learnt anything about it. She worried Jasper would run himself into the ground with all the studying he was doing as well.

“How long are you going to be suffering with the late-night crowd?” Clarke asked sympathetically. She finished stacking some clean glasses, and the boys began giving her a hand putting chairs up on tables. This was a tradition at this point, to which Clarke was grateful. It would take her twice as long without the boys help when she was short staffed.

“Hopefully this was the last night.” Jasper let out a sigh of relief. “Jaha is interviewing two new guys right now.”

“Correction, I just finished interviewing two new guys.” Clarke heard Jaha say, but she didn’t turn around. Jaha and Clarke went further than anybody else she knew in this club, and it was fair to say she did not hide her disdain for him well. The very sound of his voice chilled her blood, fear slowing her down as she felt his eyes on her. She carried on moving chairs, avoiding talking until she heard different voices.

“Murphy.” She heard one of the voices say in a monotone, deep voice. Jasper and Monty introduced themselves.

“Nice to meet you, I’m Bellamy Blake.” The other voice was lighter, but it was accent that drew her attention, it sounded so familiar.

Had she heard that correctly: Blake? As in Octavia Blake? Octavia mentioned her brother constantly, surely she would have mentioned if he was applying here.

 She turned around quickly, just as Jasper spoke up, gesturing to her. “And that is the _lovely and clearly welcoming_ Clarke.” His voice was laced with sarcasm, but Clarke hardly gave it a second thought. She refused to move her line of sight from the one she assumed to be Bellamy. He didn’t exactly look like Octavia, his features were much more distinctive than delicate little Octavia. His hair dark and curly, but pushed back out of his eyes. He had olive toned skin, but that didn’t stop freckles from shining through, they were scattered all across his face, decorating a round nose and sculpted cheeks and jawline. _Woah_.

“Blake, as in Octavia Blake?” Clarke asked, and Bellamy nodded.

“No surprises as to who told me you were hiring.” Bellamy smirked, taking a step towards Clarke, and she noticed she was staring. She averted her gaze, but felt herself wanting to take him in a little more. She assured herself it was simply because she wanted to see the resemblance between him and Octavia, but she was also very aware of how attractive he was.

“Sister.” He added, confirming her suspicions. Octavia Blake was a sweet first year fashion student who made the costumes for the club. She was very talented, and Clarke had bonded with her when she first joined. Octavia seemed very confident, but Clarke felt she needed to keep an eye on her. Octavia was young, and Clarke knew the girl couldn’t enter the club without creeps harassing her. They’d become close friends, and Octavia had mentioned her brother dozens of times, but Clarke had never seen a face before. Octavia wasn’t exactly the post-family-photos-on-facebook kind of girl.

Jaha clapped his hands together, drawing the attention back to himself. “Well, I’ll see you two tomorrow. Jasper, I’m trusting you can show them around a little tomorrow until they get some proper training.” That would happen in a day or so, Clarke knew the procedure.

“First timers?” Monty asked as Jaha left them for the night.

“We used to dance privately.” Murphy commented, looking at Monty with suspicion, which struck Clarke as a little odd. The man was very good looking, with a brooding expression. He had dark features but pale skin, his eyes and the stare wrapped into one was a little unsettling. “The company let us go a few weeks ago.”

“Students?” Jasper asked. Most of the dancers were, the Ark was only a few streets away.

“No.” Murphy simply said. Clarke questioned how this guy would perform, as he didn’t exactly seem…friendly.

“It’s my second year” Bellamy nodded. Clarke considered if she was older than him, as she was just graduating. She didn’t think so. “So, you all dance?” He looked at Clarke, and she shook her head.

“I tend the bar. Monty does sound and lighting. It’s good to stay on our good sides, otherwise I don’t get your audience drunk enough to tip well, and Monty will make you twerk to the Jurassic Park theme tune.” She chuckled and Monty exasperated.

“That was one time, and Atom was a jerk!” He defended himself, and Jasper clutched at his stomach, laughing at the memory.

“He did deserve it.” Jasper agreed.

“Well, I don’t need my audience to be drunk to tip well. And I did more than alright with my old gig without any of this fancy equipment.” Bellamy responded to Clarke, his mouth upturning slightly at the side in a half smile. Clarke narrowed her eyes at him, arrogance was something she loathed.

“If you say so.” She muttered. While Bellamy failed to crack a smile, Murphy did. Clearly amused, he nodded at Clarke in approval of her snarky comment. A little guilt crept up on Clarke, but she wasn’t about to go against this gut feeling that this Bellamy boy was bad news. She tried to recall what Octavia had spoken about, but mostly what came to mind was simply brief mentions that warranted no need for remembering the name Bellamy.

“Can I get you boys a drink?” Clarke asked, more to Murphy, and mostly for something to say. “Dancers drink for free, as long as it’s not before a shift.”

“I think I’ll like it here.” Murphy said, a little clearer than his previous sentences. “A double of whatever that is please.” He pointed at Monty’s glass. Bellamy asked for the same, looking a little wary of Clarke’s niceness. She ignored it.

They all chatted away for a little. Murphy stayed pretty quiet, and finished two doubles before most people had finished their first. They found out Bellamy was a history major, and 26, so Clarke was correct that he was older than her at 22. Jasper talked about his engineering major, and Monty gushed for a while about the fascinating world of botany. She learnt the two new boys knew each other quite well. In fact, they shared a flat. Clarke was not in this discussion, as she was too busy pottering around, finishing up her responsibilities. She had little interest to engage with new people, and would rather not talk about her. Although she was friends with the remote few people in the club, her social life was limited to these few individuals. It took them long enough to break her down too. While she did eventually sit down, she was hoping to be left out of the cosy getting-to-know-you stuff that was occurring.

“So, where are you from?” Bellamy asked her. Clarke shifted a little in her bar stool. Suddenly she felt herself on edge. A chill snuck down the small of her back like it did whenever anybody decided to talk personal details.

“I live in Charter House.” She said, which was her off campus building.

“Oh, nice. Are you a local?”

“Yeah, I lived around here most of my life.” Clarke chose her words carefully, then tried to move towards a distraction. “Octavia told me she used to live in the South end of town.”

“Yeah, we did, lovely place, little rough around the edges. How about you?”

Monty grinned, knowing he knew Clarke better than most people here. Without thinking, he answered for her.

“She’s a West Downs girl.” Even Jasper looked surprised at that, and Monty immediately realised he’d made a mistake. If looks could kill, Monty would have been sliced to pieces. Clarke recoiled at this comment, regretting ever having dropped the ball around Monty. She’d not realised he knew the local area so well, she’d mentioned a creek behind her old house and of course Monty put two and two together.

“Wait, West Downs?” Jasper asked. “Seriously, that super posh gated community?”

“Didn’t realise we had town royalty in our midst.” Bellamy muttered.

“I’m not…That’s not where I am now is it?” Clarke said, her tone harsh, her teeth bared.

“No, course not. What, daddy get rid of your credit cards?” Bellamy said sarcastically. Jasper laughed along to the offhanded comments, but Murphy seemed to be ignoring Bellamy and looked unsettled. “What’s the matter, Princess?”

His words hit Clarke like a wave of heat, boiling her blood and filling her vision with red.

 “Enough.” She snapped, silencing the room by crashing her glass down on the counter. The little bit of liquid left in there spilt onto the surface, but Clarke failed to care. Jasper and Monty exchanged a look, but they knew better than to say anything to Clarke.

“Hey, I’m sorry!” Bellamy said, but he sounded disingenuous. He put his hands up in defeat, but Clarke really did not appreciate it. The blood still bubbling in her veins forced her into action, making it clear she was closing up the bar and it was time to leave.

“It’s late.” Clarke pointed out, and started turning off the bar lights, and grabbing their empty or half full glasses.

“Well done.” Murphy muttered under his breathe to Bellamy, giving his shoulder a light shove.

They all headed out, and the boys said their polite goodbyes. Clarke said a blunt “See you tomorrow.” To everybody, and locked up. Bellamy hung around for a few seconds extra, but sighed and walked away to catch up with Murphy when Clarke would not acknowledge his presence. Clarke was pissed off, and hoped that Bellamy was quick to go like quite a few of the dancers. She made a mental note to text Octavia tomorrow about the whole thing, but as she walked the short distance to her flat, all she wanted was to collapse on her bed and forget she had a double shift tomorrow.


	2. First Night Nerves

As Bellamy walked to his new job the next morning, he couldn’t help but curse himself for his comments the previous night. Yes, Clarke was probably some spoilt rich Princess who had the job to piss off daddy, but she was also going to be working with him. She was clearly good friends with everybody else, and it definitely was not a good idea to be on her bad side. He really needed this job. Stripping was about the only skill he had for a part time job, and he couldn’t live without a job. Unlike Clarke, he didn’t have parents that pay for his education. He’d encountered far too many West Downs girls at his old job. Posh young girls marrying rich, shallow idiots who’d rather eye-candy than brains. At the bridal parties, they paid the best but treated him like shit and almost always expected sex. He couldn’t stand them.

He got to work and he was introduced to the other dancers, and the instructor. She also worked there, but Raven was an expert. She taught pole fitness classes on the side, every morning in the club. Bellamy was surprised they could even do that, but apparently, it was popular. The new dancers were expected to attend at least 3 times a week at the male classes (still taught by this girl Raven, but apparently, she knew the male routines too). Raven asked Bellamy if he had been given a ‘character’ yet, which weirdly Octavia usually took care off. It was based on what costumes they thought would be flattering, or what ones the club already had. Octavia had already told Bell his, and he kind of loved it.

Murphy was given a persona too, and Bellamy laughed when Octavia had told him that she had a police officer costume that would be perfect for Murphy. Murphy gritted his teeth, and thanked her. She’d only met Murphy a handful of times, but Octavia wasn’t exactly his biggest fan. The male dancers were Jasper and some guy named Lincoln who Bellamy thought he’d heard Octavia mention. The female dancers were Raven, a blonde girl named Echo, another girl called Emori who had a face tattoo and only had one hand and a slightly older woman named Anya.

The club had smaller, compactable travel poles for these sessions, but Murphy and Bellamy got to use the main stage as they needed to practice. Raven worked them for about 4 hours before it was close to early opening time. Clarke wondered in and starting to sort out the bar area. Bellamy couldn’t help but notice the small lump of blonde hair come bouncing in. Raven clicked her fingers, getting his attention.

“Stop ogling the staff, you’re the one that’s supposed to be ogled.” She reminded him.

“I wasn’t.” He protested, looking away from Clarke. It was just himself and Murphy now, all the other dancers did a half hour at most. Raven was making sure the boys were ready for tonight. Usually they’d have more time, but with only two other dancers, it was tricky. Jasper didn’t exactly have it in him to do more than one show, and although he was loved, he didn’t bring in the bigger crowds. Raven was glad they both had previous dancing experience. They could ignore the pole for a while, then build up their skills eventually. Raven knew both of the boys had good potential.

Despite his grumpy demeanour, Murphy knew how to act on stage. He was intense, and worked with his whole vibe. He was very attractive, and Raven knew he’d get the crowds excited without needing to do much talking or cheering like some of the other boys did. Bellamy was hot, even Raven found herself appreciating his looks a little more than she should have. He wouldn’t have a problem, even if he didn’t try, but he really did try. He was quick to pick up skills on the pole, and Raven taught him a lot more than she was expecting to. Even in his shirt, she could see he worked out and was perfectly capable of pulling himself and moving on the pole with ease. When she went over to grab some water from Clarke, she whispered a quick “Damn!” and gestured over her shoulder at Bellamy. Clarke grimaced and when questioned, promised to explain to Raven a little later.

In order to give them a break before their performances, Raven finished up their first dance choreography about an hour before Jasper went on. He was opening tonight, which was a smaller crowd which he preferred. Bellamy took an immediate liking to Jasper. He didn’t take himself seriously, and was pretty childish, but gave Bellamy was good advice about who to avoid, how to spot a grabber and how to have a bit of fun. When Monty, the sound guy, came over, he noticed Jasper playing attention to their conversation a little too intently. Bellamy made a mental note to ask if they were dating or something later.

Bellamy was surprisingly nervous about his first night. The routine Raven had taught him was easy enough, a little more complicated than Murphy’s, but overall very simple. He thought maybe it was because it was a different setting, and it seemed a little more high-pressure. When you’re a private dancer, you go into hotels or people’s living rooms, and you don’t have a boss or more than maybe 10 people watching. Bellamy headed to the bar, determined to maybe get a drink to take the edge off, and maybe a little to see if the bar-tender was still pissed at him.

“Hey.” He said to her, trying to catch her line of sight.

“You’re normally supposed to stay backstage.” She said, but she didn’t really sound too harsh. “Jaha might see you.”

“I was hoping to get a drink, first night nerves.”

“Can’t, sorry. It’s a legal thing, it was in the contract you signed. Dancers aren’t allowed to drink before a set.” She raised her eyebrows, and kept slicing lemon wedges for later. He didn’t like her attitude very much. He was new, she could be a little friendlier. He took her in again, not unlike yesterday when she’d seen her for the first time. Bellamy had heard about the people in the club before, but Octavia didn’t use names too often because Bellamy didn’t know them. Everybody was “this girl from work” or something similar. Bellamy certainly didn’t picture this girl. She was stunning, no doubt about it. She had beautiful soft blue eyes, golden hair and the cutest lips Bellamy had probably ever seen. She wore the same uniform as a few of the waitresses Bellamy had seen, just a black button down and jeans. She wore combat boots, he’d noticed yesterday, probably because she was on her feet all day.

“Come on, can’t you make an exception for my first night? This is just a bit of fun, isn’t it?” He joked, but she shot him a look so cold he swore he could have shivered.

“It’s not so fun when you slip and break something, or if you get a little handsy with the clients. Then who also gets in trouble because she’s the idiot who gave you a drink? Sorry, I’m not risking my job because you won’t take yours seriously.”

Bellamy gritted his teeth. “I do take my job seriously, I’ve been busting my ass for 4 hours making sure my routine is perfect. And it is.” Clarke chuckled, and Bellamy huffed. “What?”

“You think your routine is perfect?” She spotted Raven, and gestured for her to come over. Raven was waiting tables tonight, which is what the dancers who weren’t working usually did if they still wanted a shift. “Raven, I’ll bet you a quarter of your tips tonight I can accurately guess 3 problems Bellamy has with the routine you gave him today.”

“5 things.”

“4 things.”

“Deal.”

“There are not four, or five, things wrong with my routine!” Bellamy was pissed off, and getting very defensive.

“Number one, you’re coming in too early on your first move, it throws you off. You’re rushing because you’re worried about spending too long off of the pole even though you shouldn't be.” Clarke put one finger out, then another. “Number two, you fail to have a difference between a floater and a fireman, because you clearly aren’t confident enough, so it's not really your fault but it is an issue.”

Raven nodded, smug, and Bellamy considered walking away from the pair of them.

Clarke raised another finger. “Number three, you keep leading with the wrong foot when you go into a hand tough, which means you’re fixing your mistake for at least 8 counts and it looks sloppy.” Raven laughed, but nodded again. Clarke was clearly pleased with herself and not hiding it well. “And number four, you’re not used to be above your audience, so you’re not looking down. Eye contact is the most basic rule, and you can’t even get that right.” Clarke finished, and took a deep breath. “Raven anything to add?”  

“Nope, that about sums it up. Consider yourself a quarter of my tips richer. Think I’ll be a little ruder to my customers tonight, make sure I get less for you.” Clarke grinned, then went back into the stock room to grab some containers for the lemons.

“What the hell is her problem?” Bellamy demanded, fucking humiliated. He wasn’t even trying to pretend otherwise. Raven looked at him a little like one would look at a wounded puppy. She loved Clarke's sass, and wasn't about to baby Bellamy, even if it was his first day. All of Clarke's comments were things Raven would have told him about the next day anyway.

“The girl knows her stuff, she’s better than all the dancers here, myself excluded of course. She takes nearly all my classes.” Bellamy was surprised, he’d not considered that the staff could take the classes. “Look, your routine isn’t bad. You’re new, and nobody will care when you look how you look. Just enjoy it, rock the mistakes and get yourself some nice cash.” Bellamy relaxed a little at the compliment, he couldn’t help it. “It’s your first day, honestly you should be proud of how good you are compared to some of my other first-timers.”

“How do I stop the Princess from judging me then?” Bellamy turned up the side of his lip.

“She wouldn’t judge you if you were nice. Pay attention when she tells you something, she’s far smarter than you and don’t even try to argue with me on that.” Bellamy had opened his mouth to protest, but shut it quickly. “Clarke has been an angel to her friends working here, there is nothing she wouldn’t do for us and she's fiercely loyal if you're good to her. She's somebody you want by your side. Besides, she basically runs the joint so don’t piss her off unless you want to be doing the quiet hours where you’ll get shit tips.”

“She organises the shifts?” Bellamy exasperated. He couldn’t deny there was something about the girl he didn’t like. She just immediately started to dislike him after a brief conversation, she clearly had a stick up her butt. Or more likely a silver spoon.

“Yeah, so maybe don’t bother her too much. Hate to see such a pretty face go to waste.” Raven grinned, just as Clarke came back to the bar. Bellamy rolled his eyes.

“I’ll be seeing you girls later then.” He nodded at them both, getting nothing back from Clarke and a weak smile and wave from Raven. He headed backstage to where Jasper was getting ready for his show. Jasper had a few different costumes, but tonight was a little different. He was wearing a lab coat, which Octavia had stolen from Monty weirdly enough. He was doing a scientist set, and it was utterly ridiculous, complete with referring to his dick as a “test tube” and wearing the goggles. He was loving it, coming up with all kinds of jokes and innuendos. He asked Bellamy to warn him if Monty came around back-stage because he wanted to hide, so it was a surprise. Apparently, Octavia had said Lincoln was going to wear the lab coat.

Lincoln sat in the corner, already in his show clothes, doing a crossword of all things, surrounded by feather boas and thongs. He usually played a cowboy, then other days he did a Tarzan sort of character with a lot of grunting, which was his personal favourite because it was so stupid, but got him a lot of tips. Lincoln was a personal trainer during the day, but stripped because it was good money and he enjoyed it. It meant he could afford to travel and that was important for him. It allowed him to do what he loved, and what more could he ask for a job? Plus, he was already very fit and it made it easier to look the part.

Bellamy settled in, talking to Lincoln about some of the crossword answers, and then saw Octavia enter with a zip-up clothing bag. She passed it to him, grinning her head off.

“How are you liking it?” She raised her eyebrows. She actually thought he’d dislike the job, mostly because it didn’t have the same freedom as his last one.

“It’s good thanks.” Bellamy shrugged. “Give it time. Thanks again for setting this up.”

“What are sisters for?” She grinned. “I’m proud of this costume, so make sure those horny old women don’t tear it.”

“Eargh, why do you have to call them that?”

“Because that’s what they are.” Jasper nodded at Octavia as he left to go onto stage. Monty was doing the introduction, and Bellamy smiled at it.

“So, Jasper and Monty?” He queried, figuring Octavia would know something.

“Don’t go there. Best friends for years, Monty is clearly madly in love with him. Jasper, we’ve got no clue. Boy is too much of a joker to be able to get a read on it. They’re cool though.”

“They seem it.” Bellamy decided to vent a little. “Not like that girl Clarke.”

“What? You don’t like Clarke? What did you do?” Octavia shook her head.

“Why do you assume I did something?”

“Because you always do something.”

“I just dislike her. She got pissed at me last night because Monty told me where she lived, she got pissed at me today and pointed out the mistakes I made when I was practising my routine.”

“Don’t make mistakes and she won’t have a problem.” Octavia smiled, proud of herself. Bellamy rolled his eyes, which he felt he did a lot with Octavia.

“Not my fault she’s a stuck up rich kid.”

“Fuck off Bell, get to know the girl first.” Octavia clearly didn’t have the patience for this. She heard the small audience erupt as Jasper walked onto stage, and she cursed again.

“I wanted to watch, I’ll see you later, okay? I’ll stay for the start of your routine, but I’m leaving the second your shirt comes off alright?” Bellamy smiled, nodding and gesturing that she could go. Murphy slinked over, and said a quick hello to her, but she rushed off without saying anything.

“Man, that girl is _obsessed_ with me.” Murphy quipped. "She wants my babies." Bellamy gave him a playful shove.

“She thinks you’re a bad influence on me.”

“Oh yeah, _I’m_ a bad influence on the stripper who bangs every girl he meets.”

Bellamy flipped him off. “I do not.”

“$100 says you sleep with a girl here within two weeks.” They shook on it, and Bellamy cursed himself that the first place his mind went was Clarke. Regardless of her attitude, she was hands-down the most attractive girl in here. He’d let his mind wonder a few times when they’d just met, thinking that she was going to see him strip. He imagined her watching him, and liking watching him. It was a nice thought at the time, now however he wished she didn’t watch the routine. He was almost more nervous performing in front of her than he was the random women. He started feeling the stage jitters, so he distracted himself by talking to Lincoln. Murphy wasn’t really a talker.

“So, Octavia is your sister?” Lincoln casually asked.

“Yeah, you guys friendly?”

“A little. She’s nice. Very talented.” He gestured to his perfectly fitting and well-crafted costume. Bellamy nodded, trying not to listen to the audience just past the curtain who were all cheering on Jasper as he did his routine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the responses to the first chapter! You've been lovely, and so I decided to post another chapter tonight, hope you enjoy!


	3. Performance Time

 

Clarke could have sworn she heard a squeak from Monty as Jasper came out in his scientist costume. She laughed to herself and she prepared some shots for some very loud women who’d come in to enjoy the entertainment. She passed the tray to Raven who went over, dishing them out. Clarke picked up her phone as she saw she’d received a text from Monty.

**This is torture. I hope it never ends.**

Another one came through as she was reading.

**I have had this dream a few too many times. Pinch me? ;)**

Clarke grinned and went back to observing the show. She picked up her sketchpad and pencil just as Jasper took the lab coat off finally and was left in a very small pair of bright gold underpants. She started sketching as she had nothing left to do, and stopped really paying attention to anything happening around her. She loved these moments where she could sketch a little at work. She managed to do 3 pictures before Jasper ended his set and the women came over for more drinks. She made a mental note to show Monty later, as well as Jasper. None of the dancers minded when she sketched them, and they actually liked seeing her pieces which surprised her.

She wasn’t paying much attention when the music changed and Bellamy was introduced as “Professor”. She spotted Octavia, who was looking a little uncomfortable, watching the audience more than the stage. Clarke realised his probably wasn’t something a little sister would watch happily, but Octavia would have wanted to support him. Octavia wandered over and sat at the bar with her back to Bellamy, staring at her phone so Clarke decided to glance at the stage.

Clarke looked at Bellamy dancing for the first time, and saw him in a nearly skin-tight white shirt and patterned tie. He had black pants on that left very little to the imagination, and glasses. Oh, the glasses. His hair was pushed back again, those curls attempting to free themselves every time he did a head movement to the music. Clarke wondered what it would look like if his hair was down, framing his face and moving along to the beat as Bellamy did.

Clarke felt herself swallow, not sure she had it in her to look away. She’d seen the routine earlier, but this was different. There were lights, and louder music, and he was actually taking off his clothes. And the costume was not something Clarke hated. Not at all. He was very on time with the music Raven had choreographed him to, slowly unbuttoning his shirt without removing his tie which led the women to cheer. He slowly exposed his chest, and Clarke took in a sharp breath, gripping the glass in front of her a little too tight. There was nothing she could do but stare. She swore he caught her looking a few times, seemingly making eye contact, but she knew those lights were far too bright and he couldn’t see her.

Finally, after what seemed like a lifetime to Clarke, he removed the shirt completely, and Clarke got a good look at him as he started really working the pole. He had tattoos she’d not seen earlier, some on his lower back, one on his chest and many of his arms. Surprisingly, they were watercolour tattoos, each an array of one colour, so one had variations of green, another purple, another red. Clarke couldn’t see what the black outlines were in them though. She unconsciously licked her top lip as he moved onto his main pole section, grinding up on it a few times before placing his hands and gliding around it. Her mouth felt dry, but other parts of her… not so much. The crowd went a little crazy as he crawled towards the biggest section of them on his hands and knees after he’d dropped down on the pole. Clarke felt her knees were a little weak. She’d never responded this way to a dancer before, even her ex's, she couldn’t explain it.

“How’s he doing?” Octavia asked and Clarke snapped out of it quickly.

“Not bad.” She lied, wondering if her voice sounded strange to Octavia like it did to Clarke. It was obvious every girl in the crowd was lapping it up. Octavia looked happy, and Clarke complimented the costume. She watched him go back to the crowd, then have a bit of fun with the pants before they came off. Clarke was aware she was staring, but Octavia catching her transfixed on her brother didn’t seem that bad right now. Bellamy pulled at his tie, loosening it and running his hands towards his crouch. Clarke pictured those hands running down her own body, towards her underwear and underneath. She guessed that was what he was aiming all the women to think about it, or at least something similar. She hated that she was falling for this performance, she was responding exactly how she was supposed to. She was in no way better than the group of women throwing cash onto the stage.

Clarke tried to remind herself this was the same guy who’d made rude comments about her, and had ego dripping from every inch of him. Not to mention that he was Octavia’s brother. Still, Clarke could fantasise. After all, that was what this entire place was selling. The club was called “Hidden Heaven” for crying out loud, it was designed to be a place where you could discover your secret sexual fantasies. All the characters were designed with the audience in mind, what they liked.

“Why…a professor?” Clarke managed to ask Octavia, flickering her eyes between the two which made her feel a little guilty.

“He’s at the Ark college to be a history teacher, so I figured he’d enjoy living out his dream while he was working towards it. Is it too cheesy? I could change it.” Octavia glanced around quickly, but diverted her view right back to Clarke when she saw just how semi-nude her brother was.

“No! No, it’s fine. The audience seems to like it.” Clarke wasn’t exactly lying, she was part of the audience. She wasn’t the only one, she could see one of the loud women she’d poured shots for was looking ready to melt. Hoping she didn’t look like that, Clarke finished watched the last few moments of Bellamy’s song. Just as he was done however, the lights went out on stage, leaving Bellamy looking straight at Clarke and catching her eye. She realised immediately he could see her, she saw the recognition in his eyes. She looked away, but knew it was too late. Fuck.

The crowd erupted into cheering as Bellamy gathered up some money and headed backstage.

“How long do you reckon until he’s clothed again?” Octavia asked. Hopefully never, Clarke thought. Maybe his personality would be easier to get along with if he was that naked all the time. Or at least, Clarke would have a little something to sweeten the conversations. 

“Probably a couple of minutes, depends if he needs to shower.” Octavia nodded, and Clarke poured her a drink to sit with for a few moments. Clarke found herself grimacing as she saw a fully-clothed but sweaty looking Bellamy coming out to join them as Murphy took to the stage. Clarke hated that he was still in the performance clothes, glasses included. In fact, they’d never come off with the rest of the clothing. She hated it more that she really fucking liked it. People had started to come in from the streets now, so Clarke could distract herself for a few minutes serving people, but soon she was left with either hiding in the stockroom or going back over to Octavia and Bellamy. She figured she'd seem weirder if she hid in the stockroom.

“It was clearly the costume the crowd loved.” Octavia was telling Bellamy as Clarke approached.

“I don’t know about that.” Bellamy looked straight up at Clarke as he said it, and she wasn’t sure if she could detect any particular tone in his voice. Maybe he’d not seen her staring. Octavia hugged him, congratulating him again and then headed off, as she had a lot of work to still do. Clarke said a quick goodbye, hoping Bellamy would leave as well but he stuck around, taking a seat at the bar. “Liked what you saw then, Princess?” He teased. Fuck, he’d seen her.

“I don’t like what I’m hearing.” Clarke referred to the use of ‘princess’.

“That doesn’t answer my question.” Bellamy raised his left eyebrow, a smug grin on his face. Clarke couldn’t believe she’d actually been distracted watching this arrogant son of a bitch on stage.

“Your feet were still sloppy. Surprised you didn’t fall over.” She retorted.

“Worried about me?”

“Looking forward to you falling on your face more like.” Bellamy’s tongue flicked out of his mouth quickly and graced along his bottom lip as he seemed to evaluate the conversation.

“Is it the glasses? Do they do it for you?” He asked, leaning in a little over the bar. How the fuck did he read her so well? The glasses were hot sure, as was the rest of it. But he couldn't have known that was something she was kind of into. Not that she'd known it was something she liked until Bellamy had worn them. Maybe it was just Bellamy in them, with that face, and that body and those tattoos. She couldn't help but want to see if she could spot the tattoos again. Her eyes grazed over the arms and back, but nothing. Damn. 

“Why do you want me to have watched you so badly?” Clarke responded, gaining the slightest bit of confidence. It did seem like was hell-bent on catching her out. “Do you need the attention much?”

“Maybe I just like _your_ attention.” He adjusted his glasses a little and Clarke tried not to look at it too much. She was so conscious of every movement he was making at the moment. At every slight movement of his body she could just imagine it repeated on stage, almost naked.

“You’d have to do better than that to get it.” She replied, laughing a little.

“Is that right?” Clarke hated that everything she said he could turn against her. “So, what would it take to get your attention?”

“A better personality.” She suggested, and she watched him narrow his eyes a little at the comment. Ah-ha, she thought, that got him.

“Meaning you like my looks just fine?” He smiled to himself after a second, and Clarke wanted to get pissed again. 

“No, just that the personality is presently more repulsive than the looks, so it’s more of a problem.” Clarke was aware this was a little harsh, but this guy just got to her. That damned arrogance.

“Ouch, my heart.” Bellamy clung to his chest sarcastically, like he’d been wounded. Clarke rolled her eyes at him, making sure he could see her do it. “Come on, admit it, you like Professor Blake.”

Clarke scoffed. “Please.”

“If you wanted to stay after class and he could teach you a few things.” Bellamy said, as sultry as he could. Clarke glanced up and looked at him. She didn’t doubt it for a second.

“Don’t you and your massive ego have somebody else they could bother?” Bellamy dropped the act, and leaned back a little.

“What is your problem with me, Princess? Come on, I’m extending the metaphorical Olive branch here.” He gestured that he was holding something out.

Clarke couldn’t bring herself to explain anything, especially not about her home. Of course Bellamy didn’t know why the comments he’d made pissed her off so badly, no one would have known that, but she didn’t want to explain herself. He’d said shitty things, and just like everybody else, he’d made assumptions about her based on her past. Not to mention he didn’t care about his job, he was rude and he thought he was a gift from God or something.

“We work together Bellamy, we don’t have to like each other.” She pointed out.

“Oh, come on.” Luckily, Clarke was saved by some customers coming in who clearly wanted her attention.

“Go backstage, Bellamy. Some of us have a job to be getting on with that they actually work hard at.” Bellamy looked pissed at that, but she was too busy to think about that right now. She served the customers, who sat down to enjoy Murphy and his routine. Clarke looked up a few times, but didn’t really enjoy it. He wasn’t bad. It just wasn’t like Bellamy’s.

Clarke asked Raven to watch the bar for her while she went to the backstage staff bathroom. Raven agreed, and Clarke headed off. She got in there, and splashed some water in her face to try and clear her head a little. She had to get a hold of herself. She was getting drinks orders wrong, and having people needing to repeat themselves a few times because she couldn’t say attention. She was still reeling, and honestly still pretty turned on after Bellamy’s performance. This was no way to be at work, and she was counting down the seconds until her shift ended. She wasn’t working too long tomorrow, as it was a Sunday the place usually closed up early and whoever was working usually went out as a group. It was a girls night at the club tomorrow, as they split it up based on day, so at least she wouldn’t have to deal with Bellamy and his performance again. Octavia had invited her out, and she knew Raven was going which was nice. Jasper and Monty would probably be there too. That was exactly what she needed, a fun night out with friends, somewhere that wasn’t her place of work.

Clarke left the restroom, but was still distracted and walked smack bang into Bellamy’s chest as he was clearly walking into the bathroom. Clarke took a huge step to the side, but found herself against the wall of the backstage corridor. Bellamy smirked, and she tried to ignore how close he was to her. He pressed one hand against the wall next to her, and smiled down at her. 

“Sorry about that, can’t keep away eh Griffin?” There was something in the way he said her name that Clarke just fucking hated. He sounded so sure of himself, so confident already that every girl would just throw themselves at his feet because he looked at them in the right way. She questioned if this guy had ever actually been rejected before, or was he just so used to getting his own way? Bet the screaming fans after every performance didn’t help. Maybe that was why he disliked her criticising him earlier, because he was too used to people thinking he was perfect. Sure, Clarke was attracted to him, but hell if she’d give him any reason to think she was. Not gonna happen, because Clarke wasn’t buying his whole deal. He was nothing more than some vain, self-entitled egomaniac, and she was done having anything more to do with him. She moved away from the wall, trying to ignore her own quickened breathing.

“Could have moved out of my way.” She snapped at him, her voice cold. The corridor was badly lit and narrow, so he wasn’t super visible, but she could see his face enough to know he was annoyed at her comments.

“Maybe I didn’t want to.” He suggested.

“How about you go throw yourself at some other girl?” Clarke responded, and watched the shock register on his face. He definitely wasn’t expecting that from her.

“Don’t flatter yourself.” He answered, taking a step towards her, but carefully. She didn’t think he was doing it to get in her space, like at the bar. This was confrontational.

“It’s not flattering to me that you’re so interested.” His brows burrowed, and he crossed his arms. Clarke was trying not to show that she was proud of herself, as he didn’t seem to be able to come up with quick responses his time. Before he could come up with anything to say, she turned on her heels and walked away briskly. She had seen a dozen boys come into the club with his exact attitude, and they never lasted long. What made Bellamy Blake so special?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for your lovely feedback, I've been so surprised with how nice you've all been! I hope you liked this chapter, and the next one will be up soon!


	4. Truth or Dare

“Another round please!” Raven cried out, slamming her empty glass down on the bar and cheering. Clarke threw her head back and laughed, Raven was always his dramatic and she loved it. As the bartender made the same drinks again, Raven pulled Clarke towards her by her shoulders. “Clarke, you look…like a hot piece tonight.” Raven said, her tone one of uttermost seriousness. Clarke scoffed.

“Thanks Raven, you look beautiful.” Raven let go of Clarke’s shoulders, doing a flick of her arms upwards.

“I know.” She said, then leaned in to whisper into Clarke’s ear, “You’re a better bartender then they are.” She gestured to the middle-aged bartender who kept checking their phone every 10 seconds. Clarke rolled her eyes at Raven, then turned around to look at the wonderful friends around her. They were all sitting around a booth in this bar. It was a nice place, not too far away from Hidden Heaven, but it was very different. There were indie band posters up all over the low ceiling, and music was playing from old speakers that didn’t sound like the bands shown. There were antique style lamps and accessories thrown around the place, and the whole thing was very rustic looking. It looked like somebody had fused a vintage store and a bar together.

 

In the booth, Emori was listening intently to some story Jasper was telling, while Monty chimed in with extra (and likely crucial) details, because of course he was present in the story too. Those two were never apart. Clarke often wondered what it would be like to have friends that have known you since you were a child. How close it must make you, like extra siblings. Octavia was happily chatting away to Lincoln, who was ignoring the very drunk women who was really trying to get his attention a few feet away. Octavia kept shooting her looks, and Clarke couldn’t help but think Octavia looked like a jealous girlfriend. Like she’d ever had to worry about a guy’s eye straying. Every guy Clarke knew thought that Octavia was flawless, and Clarke wouldn’t disagree with them. Even Jasper had a thing for Octavia for a while, but they’d become good friends and he said he didn’t think of her in that way anymore.

The night was still young, it was approaching midnight and Clarke was still full of energy. It has been a peaceful night, with no Bellamy to worry about or deal with.

“Daydreaming about me, Princess?” Bellamy’s voice muttered into her ear, making her jump around. There he was. Speak of the devil.

“Hey Bellamy, glad you could make it!” Raven immediately passed him one of the drinks she’d just ordered, and then she noticed a silent Murphy and passed him one too. Murphy quietly thanked her, and finished the drink almost immediately. Both the boys were dressed in dark colours, with Murphy sporting a black button down and Bellamy dressed in a dark green shirt that still covered up the tattoos that Clarke wanted to investigate. 

“First work night out.” Bellamy smiled, and Clarke couldn’t help but notice how close he was to her right now. She glanced up and down his body, noticing that he ooked like he'd put some effort in. His hair was neatly pushed back again, and he even smelled nice, like vanilla soap, or something similar, Clarke couldn’t quite place the smell, but it wasn't hated. 

“Let’s get you two drunk!” Raven cheered, and Clarke grabbed one of the cocktails on the bar before Raven dished them out. Octavia ran over to greet her brother, hugging him tightly. Clarke heard her whisper “Be nice.” In his ear before she retreated to her seat, going back to talking to Lincoln. Clarke wondered if Octavia was referring to her, or if Bellamy had been rude with the rest of them too. She guessed not, as everyone greeted him and Murphy with big smiles. Murphy said his hellos, then slid over to Clarke, who was watching at the bar as Bellamy started a conversation with Jasper, Monty and Emori.

“You get used to him you know.” He said to her, his voice low and deep. Clarke looked up at him. She assumed he always sounded like this, and it wasn't just to keep them from being overheard. 

“How did the two of you meet exactly? Don’t take this the wrong way, but you don’t seem like an obvious match.” She waited for him to answer as he politely ordered something she didn’t hear from the bartender who’d come over to ask them if they wanted anything.

“We danced for the same business, expect I was living in, um, kind of a rough situation at the time. I came into work with a black eye, and was told I couldn’t work looking like I was in a gang. They sent Bellamy to my job instead. Without even knowing me, he approached me and gave nearly all of what he’d made that night. After that, he kept an eye on me. Eventually, he moved into a place with a spare room and I moved in.” Murphy smirked. “He’s a nerd, and a little too in love with himself for my liking, but he’s not a bad guy. Never judged me, not once.” Clarke was blown away, both by the story and Murphy being so open with her.

“Why would he judge you?” As she asked, the bartender placed down 6 tequila shots in front of them with some lime wedges. Clarke counted them, even realised the numbers didn’t add up. “You get a round in?” She asked, thinking maybe he’d gotten it wrong.

“Three for you, three for me. Rest of them can buy their own.” He slid them over to her carefully. Clarke thought fuck it, and threw one down her throat as Murphy did the same. They repeated the process, and both shoved a lime in their mouth. Murphy took his out nearly immediately. Clarke liked her, it soothed the burn a little. She was used to shots, and had a pretty high tolerance so wasn’t too worried about the effect. She figured Murphy was probably similar as he ordered another two drinks, one for her, despite her still having one from Raven. 

“There’s a lot I’ve done that Bellamy could have judged me for Clarke.” He said after the long pause. She raised her eyebrows, shooting a look over at Bellamy. 

“Not putting the cap back on the toothpaste?” Clarke joked, as Raven started to gesture for them to come sit with them.

“Yeah. That too.” He looked at her, and Clarke couldn’t help but feel exposed. Something about the way Murphy was was just very intense, despite the occasional joke he tossed in. “Look, all I’m saying is if you get past the layer of jackassery of Bellamy Blake, he’s not that bad. Alternatively, if you’d like to hate him, feel free to bitch to me about him. I’ll agree with you every step of the way.” Murphy grabbed his drink, passing over money to the bartender and then went to sit down. He was a little more relaxed than he was at work, but even then, he stayed silent as he settled in.

Clarke took a seat next to Raven, who was complaining that Clarke did shots without her. Clarke ordered her a few to stop her complaining, and Jasper and Monty joined in. Those three and Octavia usually partied the hardest. However, maybe because of the presence of her brother, Octavia stayed pretty sober all night. She got a little tipsy, but not her usual party-girl, free-spirited self.

The night wore on, and Clarke relaxed and began to enjoy herself. Even with Murphy and Bellamy, nothing really changed from her usual night out with friends. In fact, Murphy was being quite nice to her and she found herself warming up to the guy. Sure, he was sarcastic and a little strange, but he seemed pretty harmless. Not to mention, he was a wicked dancer. After drinking enough, Clarke commented she wanted to dance and Murphy immediately dragged her up and danced with her. She seemed as surprised as everybody was he strut his stuff. Unlike most drunk people however, Murphy could dance. Not his usual sexy stuff like at work, but still pretty good stuff. Clarke loved it, joining in and moving her hips and arms around to the beat. Eventually, nearly everybody joined in, singing along to the music and laughing. Bellamy got up and earned a few claps from Octavia who was cheering him on from her seat. Her and Lincoln hadn’t stopped talking all night and didn't get up to dance.

Clarke wasn’t paying much attention to anything to the music and found herself dancing next to Bellamy.

“I was going to say earlier, you look beautiful tonight Griffin.” Clarke almost got mad at him saying her second name again, but something about the way he said it stopped her. It was softer than last time. The buzz from the drinking helped too, she felt so good surrounded by such a wonderful group of friends. She probably couldn't get mad if she wanted to. 

“Thank you.”

“It’s nice to see you in front of a bar. You have some good moves.” He gestured, and she span around for dramatic measure.

“Wish I could say the same about you.” She joked, her tone very much indicating she was teasing, and not trying to be rude. She didn’t want to ruin tonight, and Murphy really got her thinking earlier. She did seem to have judged Bellamy so quickly, and if Murphy had shown her anything tonight it’s that people can surprise you. Something she should have learnt a while ago, but alas, here she still was. 

“Let’s get more drinks!” Jasper suggested, and everybody responded very positively. At this point, the bar was pretty busy and the atmosphere was very uplifting.

“Let’s play a drinking game.” Raven suggested, and Emori seconded her notion. “Truth and Dare, classic.”

“What are we, pre-teen girls?” Murphy scoffed.

“Maybe you played truth and dare when you were a pre-teen girl Murphy, but for some of us it’s a grown-up game.” Emori smugly responded, and Clarke watched Murphy smile slightly at the ground, trying to conceal it. He looked a little pink in his cheeks sitting next to Emori, but Clarke guessed that was from him dancing more than anything.

“The rules?” Lincoln asked, sincerely. Clarke assumed he’d not played in a while. She knew he was the oldest of everybody.

“We go round the circle, asking everybody truth or dare.” Raven explained, taking a quick swig of her drink. “You pick one. Then you either answer the question, or drink if you can’t answer. Or, you do the dare. If you can’t do the dare, you finish your drink. Nobody is allowed to just drink though! If you do it too often, we’ll cut you off.” Lincoln confirmed that he understood the rules, so they proceed to the game.

“Monty, you first.” Raven said and Monty looked a little worried.

“Truth.”

“Fuck, marry, kill.” Jasper announced, raising his hands up dramatically and pointing, before Raven could say anything. “Murphy, Bellamy and yours truly.”

“Notice he didn’t say Lincoln, because we all know I’d win and he'd kill off anybody else.” Lincoln joked, and everybody laughed. 

“Oh. Um.” Monty’s eyes flickered between the three boys. “Fuck... Bellamy, marry Jasper and sorry, kill Murphy.” Murphy shrugged.

“Guess I’ll cancel the proposal.” Murphy didn't change his tone at all, and Monty chuckled.

“Keep up the humour and I’ll change my answers.” Monty raised his eyebrows. He was much more confident when he’d gotten a drink in him. Clarke was always happy to see him more in his element, and not just waiting around to listen to everything Jasper had to say. Monty was his own person, and Clarke sometimes worried Monty forgot that and saw him and Jasper as a permanent duo. 

“I’m honoured.” Jasper said, responding to Monty’s answer.

“Beggars can’t be choosers.” Monty replied, giving Jasper a slight nudge and sipping at his drink.

“Jasper, you’re up next.” Clarke spoke up, before Monty and Jasper could carry on this weird half-flirting thing.

“Dare.” Jasper said, confidently.

“Kiss your groom!” Octavia announced, throwing her arms up in the air just like Jasper had, clearly mocking him. Jasper let out a short laugh, and Monty looked horrified. His eyes screamed at Octavia, but Jasper didn’t seem to notice. He leaned over and whispered something into Monty’s ear. Monty’s mouth formed an ‘O’ and then he nodded. Jasper grabbed Monty’s face with both hands after passing his drink to Octavia, and gave an overly dramatic kiss on Monty’s cheek. Everybody groaned. 

“That doesn’t count!” Raven protested, but Jasper didn’t seem phased.

“Fine, guess I’ll drink as well.” And he did just that.

It was Octavia next, and Jasper asked her after she picked truth.

“Best dancer in the club?” He demanded.

“Raven.” Octavia said without missing a single beat.

“Best male dancer.” He gestured at his face, clearing trying to get the response he wanted.

“Lincoln.”

Jasper pouted. “I don’t think this game anymore.”

“Lincoln, your turn.” Lincoln also chose truth.

“Worse dancer in the club?” Raven asked.

“Jasper.” Lincoln said without hesitation and everybody erupted in giggles again as Jasper slumped down in his seat, fake sulking.

The game went on for a while. Clarke was dared to drink a concoction of everybody’s drinks mixed, which she did. Bellamy was dared to do a handstand, which to everybody’s shock he actually did. The bartender was not quite as happy with that. Raven revealed that she’d had a sex dream about at least two of the people she worked with, but she refused to say who it was. Octavia was asked who was the most difficult to work with, and she said Raven because she had the most requirements. Emori was dared to get somebody’s number which she did without any problem. Towards the end of the night, Clarke was having the time of her life. She was feeling more cheerful than she had for a while, all of her stress from the past week had disappeared.

“Clarke, truth or dare?” Octavia asked.

“Truth.”

“Say the thing you like most about every person in the circle.” Clarke rolled her eyes, and smiled too. Trust Octavia to come up with such a nice one.

“Lincoln, you’re one of the smartest people I know.” Clarke began. “You always have insightful things to say and I appreciate your brain a lot. Monty, you have the most kind, gentle soul. You couldn’t hurt a fly, and it makes you such a loving person. I hope I can be as good of a person as you one day.” Clarke smiled, and Monty thanked her just as Lincoln had. “Jasper, you are truly inspirational. You are such a cheerleader, you never fail to make me smile. I wish I could do what you do and just not care what anybody else thought of me. Raven, you are the fiercest, most confident person I know. You're badass, and I know you always have my back. You’re also so incredibly forgiving.” Clarke saw Murphy and Bellamy look a little puzzled by this, but she swiftly moved on. “Emori, you are so wonderfully compassionate. You are always there for me, and for everybody in the club. Octavia, you are so talented and so good at everything you do and yet you have so little arrogance it’s astounding. Murphy, you’re so witty, I’m shocked. I love your little one-liners and sarcasm, never stop being yourself. And Bellamy, you’re a great big brother. Octavia never shuts up about everything you do for her, it’s clear you’d do anything for the people you care about and it’s admirable. Plus you’re not a bad dancer despite my previous comments.” Clarke finished her little speech, taking a deep breathe.

“Damn Clarke, that was so sweet.” Monty said, giving up a hug over the small table in front of them. Clarke caught Bellamy’s eye, and he was smiling away. She didn’t even care, it was nice to say positive things about your friends.

“Okay, my turn. Dare.” Emori announced.

“Kiss the hottest person in the bar.” Raven declared, looking around at people she could potentially point Emori towards. She needn’t bother. Emori agreed, then without hesitation, grabbed a fistful of Murphy’s shirt and pulled him towards her. They kissed for a few seconds, then Emori released him. Murphy looked shocked as everybody cheered. Emori looked very pleased with herself.

“Murphy’s turn.” Emori pointed out, and everybody was speechless for a second.

“Truth.” He said, looking a little sceptical.

“Worse thing you’ve ever done?” Raven asked.

“Huh?” Murphy didn’t look pleased.

“You, know, worse thing you've ever done. Your biggest regret.”

“Those are two very different things.” Murphy commented, and chugged his drink, despite everybody protesting.

“The rule isn’t to finish your drink for a truth.” Clarke pointed out.

“Well, I just wanted to drink and I don’t need a game to do it.” Murphy got up to order another, and Bellamy turned to everybody while they continued to badger Murphy.

“Leave it, alright?” He warned them. Everybody left the conversation, and it got a little quiet when Murphy returned.

“Did I ruin the game?” Murphy asked as he sat down. “I’ll get it going again, Bellamy, truth or dare?” Murphy was yet to ask this tonight. Bellamy chose dare.

“Use your best pick up line on the beautiful Raven.” Murphy cocked his head to the side. “Show us those infamous moves.” Bellamy moved himself so he was sat next to Raven. He brushed a little hair away from Raven’s face and whispered something in her ear gently. Clarke didn’t know why, but she felt herself get a little warm and she tried to really focus on what was being said. She couldn’t hear anything though. Raven grinned and then nodded.

“Wow, Bellamy.” She said to him as he returned to his seat. Clarke was dying to hear what he’d said. Clearly, she wasn’t the only one, and everybody insisted Bellamy finished his drink as he didn’t say his line out loud. Bellamy proceeded to do a few shots with Raven, who was complaining that she was too good at the game and sobering up too quickly. After that, everybody got back into just talking for a while. Clarke found herself talking to Murphy who seemed to be avoiding communicating at all with Emori. Turns out he was quite the bookworm, and so he and Clarke got into a conversation about their mutual liking of some of the books they’d been forced to read in high school. Murphy drank at a steady pace, and eventually Clarke began to see him getting drunker. He loosened up a lot more it appeared, and actually cracked a real smile every once in a while.

“He’s a bit different, isn’t he?” Clarke was joined by Bellamy as she stood by the bar waiting to be served.

“You could say that again.” She agreed as she watched him finally talk to Emori, responding with a nod to something she was saying. Emori was looking like she was loving the effect she was having. 

“He’s a better person than people give him credit for.” Bellamy said gently, and Clarke was surprised at how genuine and heart-felt he sounded. She had the feeling these two were tighter than she'd originally given them credit for. 

“Funny, he said the same about you.” Clarke stared up at Bellamy who was seemingly amused by this. He looked down at her, and Clarke realised how close they were standing. With the bar being quite busy, there wasn’t a lot of room for them to stand apart. She looked up at the details of his face, the delicate freckles that highlighted his face, the deep brown, mixed with honey golden eyes framed with long lashes. What the crowd was missing out on, the up close and personal details. 

“Murphy doesn’t know what he’s talking about. I’m clearly the bad boy of this group.” Bellamy winked at her and Clarke felt her stomach do a little flutter. Murphy wasn’t the only one different tonight. Bellamy was being nice, and fun. No rude, snide comments or unnecessary questions. Clarke almost found herself warming to him a little. Just a little.

“Right.” Clarke laughed and Bellamy ordered some drinks for the two of them. She thanked him, but grimaced as she saw shots lined up along with two whiskeys.

“Saw you drinking one earlier.” Bellamy noted at the whiskey.

“Really, shots?” Clarke wasn’t exactly one to protest though, she’d lost count of how many she’d had that night. Bellamy did his 2 quickly, grinning at Clarke as she finished her second.

“I’m glad I could be here tonight.” Bellamy said, and Clarke almost agreed with him. She thought better of it though. She looked him up and down. His hair was a little messy from the dancing earlier, with a couple of curls askew and resting on the top of his forehead. His dark eyes were a little unfocused, but they were definitely looking in Clarke’s direction. His freckled cheeks were pink, his face flushed with colour as a result of drinking, laughing and the warmth of the bar. He blinked, and Clarke saw one of his eyelashes fall and land on his cheek.

Clarke found herself not thinking too much as she moved her hand up to remove it from his cheek. Bellamy kept eye contact, not questioning why she was doing what she was doing. His cheek was warm, and Clarke pinched the eyelash and dropped it when she moved away from his face.

“Eyelash.” She said, as some way of an explanation. Bellamy nodded, but didn’t stop looking intensely at her. Clarke found herself getting lost in his expression, she couldn’t bring herself to look away. Bellamy tilted his head at her a little, seeming totally transfixed for a moment.

“You have the most beautiful eyes.” He said it so gently Clarke swore for a moment she must have misheard it. She backed away, whatever spell he had on her, gone.

“Let’s get back to the table.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to…” Bellamy trailed off as Clarke walked back to the table, noticing just as she sat down that Emori and Murphy were making out in the corner. She blinked a couple of time, but it was still there. She didn’t think she’d ever seen Emori make out with a guy before tonight, thinking about it. This was interesting. Who’d had thought her type was Murphy?

“What are we talking about?” Clarke asked the table, and she joined in talking to Jasper and Monty, who were mainly commenting on what was happening next to them with Emori and Murphy. Clarke joined in, sneaking glances up at Bellamy whenever she dared. She was so confused. What the hell had just happened between them? Was it something? She had no idea. Did she want it to be a moment between the two of them?

Eventually, the night drew to a close and the bar did its last call. At this point, Octavia had already headed home, and Lincoln had left about half an hour after her. Emori and Murphy had headed off together, with Murphy claiming he was just gonna walk her back to her place. Bellamy had given Murphy a look, and warned him not to do anything stupid. To which Murphy had responded there was no need to worry because he wasn’t about to 'do Bellamy'. Clarke had appreciated the joke more than Bellamy did.

They headed out of the bar, and Raven said her goodbyes, telling Clarke to text her when she got back home. She lived closer to Jasper and Monty, but she headed off without them, probably to give them some alone time. Everybody did this with those two, hoping eventually they would just connect somehow if they were given some space. No such luck as of yet. This left Clarke and Bellamy walking together in the same direction. They didn’t actually live too far apart.

“I’m not walking you to West Downs?” Bellamy said, and Clarke tried not to react too strongly.

“No. Never. In fact, I’m walking you back to yours.” Clarke drank probably more than Bellamy over the course of the night, but because he’d started later and seemingly had a worse tolerance, he was still drunker than she was having paced herself. She kinda liked it, it was nice to be the girl who could hold her liquor. Bellamy could walk fine, and it didn’t seem like he would be in danger walking back alone, but Clarke wanted to make sure he was alright, especially as Murphy wasn’t there. And maybe she was a little curious if he would explain what had happened back in the bar. 

“Oh, you want to come back to mine? You move fast girl, buy me dinner first, then we’ll talk.”

“In your wildest dreams.” Clarke laughed.

“You’re a tough girl to figure out, did you know that?” Bellamy said, seemingly out of the blue.

“I’ve been told that before.” Clarke commented.

“Really?”

She paused for a moment, then thought she’d be honest. “My ex always said it about me. And my ex before that.”

“Yeah?” Bellamy turned the corner, and led Clarke to a street she’d not been to before. “What were they like?”

“Well, both of them were strippers.” Clarke admitted, and watched Bellamy’s eyes widen.

“Damn. So, you have a type.” Clarke wasn’t sure if he was including himself in that.

“Not really. I spent most of my time in a place with attractive, young people in that club. It was bound to happen.”

“So, these guys…” Bellamy began, but Clarke interrupted him.

“Only one guy. One girl.” Bellamy looked at her inquisitively. “I’m bisexual.”

“Alright, so these people.” He corrected himself, and Clarke appreciated him being so chill about the whole thing. “Did they end badly?”

“Obviously.”

“Care to elaborate?”

“Not really.” Clarke shrugged. “How about you, what are your exes like?”

“I don’t have exes, you’ve got to date people for that.” Bellamy pointed out. He gestured to the building just ahead of them, and informed her that it was his place.

“Not the dating type. Can’t say I’m surprised.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Bellamy said, looking a little hurt. He’d stopped outside of a relatively mediocre looking building with a street light just above them.

“I just had a hunch. You seem like a bit of a flirt.” Clarke put her hands up, as if telling him she wasn’t trying to pick a fight.

“You like it though.” Bellamy stared at her, and Clarke remained silent. She didn’t feel like denying it. She would probably regret it later on, but right now, she wanted to flirt. She wanted to tell him how attractive he was, and ask him to take her up into his building and give up a strip of her very own. She wanted to run her fingers through his curls and kiss every one of his tattoos after she saw what they were. She wanted to do a lot of things. But she wouldn’t. She wasn’t going to make the same mistakes again.

“Goodnight Bellamy.” She said, taking a step away.

“Goodnight Griffin.”

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for waiting for this chapter, I've made it extra long as I know I haven't posted in a couple of days. Hope you enjoy!


	5. Morning After

Clarke awoke in her bed, just in her underwear after her night out. Her head ached a little, the light streaming in from the window as she’d failed to draw the curtains to a close getting into bed. She sat up a little, and was proud that she remembered her usual routine of placing a glass of water and pain meds next to her bed before she’d gone out. She chugged the water, something she always did after drinking no matter what state she was in the night previous. She knew she’d also had one before bed, and plugged her phone onto charge which was great.

She saw her messages listed a couple messages from people that she’d seen last night but not bothered to open or dismiss the notification, which was Monty and Raven telling her they’d gotten home safe. There was also one from Monty which was just 17 exclamation points in a row, and Clarke responded with a simple question mark. She guessed words were not needed for this conversation.

Getting out of bed, Clarke threw on a jumper and cotton shorts, just to grab some coffee from the kitchen. She knew a shower was probably more important right now, but coffee was more tempting. She felt she needed to process everything that had happened, as well as wake herself up. It was only 11, but if Wells cancelled on work again she’d start working at 5, although it was girls night which meant a better tipping crowd for Wells. Maybe he wouldn’t pass up the opportunity.

“Wells?” Clarke announced loudly, and a familiar face popped out of his room.

“Morning Sunshine!” He said cheerily, and Clarke grimaced.

“Why are you so chipper? Aren’t you supposed to be sick?”

“Oh, I am, dreadfully so.” He coughed such a fake few coughs he sounded like that Karen girl from Mean Girls. A purposeful gesture, considering they'd watched the movie together on more than one occasion.  “But I also just finished up a tonne of studying for this upcoming exam, so I’m happy.” Clarke began making coffee, ensuring she put enough in for the both of them despite her annoyance that he’d been dodging shifts. Guess that was the perk of being the son of the owner. Wells was very close to finishing his police entrance exams, and couldn’t be happier. Unfortunately, he had still failed to inform his dad of his choices, so studying at the bar or taking legitimate time off wasn’t an option. Wells knew his dad was never approve, and he needed the money from working the bar to pay for a lot of the training and rent while it all happened. The place Clarke and him had wasn’t great, but rent was never cheap close to the university or town.

“Congratulations. Meanwhile, all your favourite ladies are asking for your whereabouts.”

“Are you referring to yourself?” Clarke grinned, she loved Wells’ and her relationship. They’d known each other for a few years, and he was a sweetheart.

“Of course, who else? Please tell me you’re doing your shift tonight, you’re supposed to be helping me train the new boys at waitressing as it’s girls night.” Clarke poured them both some coffee which she added a few sugars to. “Come on, think of the tips.”

“Fine, but I run bar, you train the new ones.” Clarke immediately protested.

“I don’t want to; can’t you do it? You need to get to know them.”

“No I don’t, I’ll be out of there soon enough.” Wells narrowed his eyes, suspicious. He knew Clarke better than most people. “Why don’t you want to train them?”

“They came out with us last night, I’ve seen them enough. Murphy is fine, he’ll be easy to sort out, but the other one is a little too sarcastic and doesn’t listen.” She phrased her words carefully.

“Sounds like somebody else when they joined.” Wells raised his eyebrows, knowingly.

“Please, I saved your ass when I joined. Your old organisational system was ‘wherever it fits is its place’. You were a disaster waiting to happen.” Clarke began to feel the coffee soothe her sore muscles as she sipped, looking around the apartment and reminiscing about the days where she just joined Heaven in Hiding and moved in here.

“My system worked for me, there is beauty in a little chaos you know.”

“Wells, you organise your cereal alphabetically. Don’t try to preach about chaos.” Clarke dramatically gestured to the line of cereal boxes on an exposed shelf in the kitchen they were sitting in. Wells shrugged and laughed.

“Okay, maybe I just didn’t care how I organised things there. You can’t blame me, my dad forced me into the job.”

“You act like you didn’t desperately need the money.”

“Nobody said I didn’t. It is nice, especially on girl’s night!” Wells cheered quietly and Clarke rolled her eyes at him, smiling.

**

Bellamy woke up face down on the edge of his bed, a little puddle of drool next to him. He groaned, his body feeling like it had been smacked into a wall. He definitely was not as young as he used to be. He tried to count all the drinks he’d had the night before, but his head hurt just thinking about it. He wasn’t even too drunk, yet he still felt this bad. He checked his nearly dead phone and saw it was close to midday. He had a missed call from Octavia and a text from her, reminding him to take out his contacts, which he usually forgot to do after a night out. Bellamy knew he’d remembered, and was grateful for it. Octavia never let him forget the time he had to wear an eyepatch after leaving one in and his eye got irritated. She’d had to take him to the hospital to get it removed.

He could vaguely hear movement outside of his door, which he assumed meant Murphy was home. To his surprise, he did think he’d heard him come in only shortly after Bellamy did. Although his body was fighting against him, Bellamy decided to join him in the kitchen. He threw on jeans and a t-shirt from his floor, and walked out to see Murphy casually eating a grilled cheese and reading a book. Bellamy glanced at the cover.

“Was that a book you were discussing with Clarke last night?” Murphy nodded, then nodded again at the coffee already made on the table that was not the one next to Murphy. Bellamy would have questioned how Murphy knew Bellamy would get up at his time, but he decided against it. He simply cared about coffee. 

“Thought you’d already read it.” Bellamy took a sip of his coffee, and it was the perfect temperature, with sugar added too. Maybe Murphy was a wizard.

“I have.”

“And you’re reading it again?”

“Funnily enough, people do enjoy reading books multiple times.”

“Did Clarke just remind you how much you liked it?”

“Sort of.” Murphy was being very evasive, even for Murphy.

“Are you reading it to discuss it?” With that, Murphy sighed and placed down the book, taking a bite of his grilled cheese.

“There is nothing wrong with wanting to have things to discuss with co-workers.” Murphy glared at Bellamy, but should have known it would do nothing.

“Wow! In all the years I’ve known you, I’ve never once see you make an effort to socialise with any co-worker.” Bellamy was chuckling away to himself.

“I live you with, don’t I?”

“I had to be the one to do all the trying with you. You resisted me every time you could.”

“Nobody could ever resist Bellamy Blake.” Murphy retorted, his voice thick with sarcasm.

“First Emori, now this.” Bellamy smiled, a huge smile from ear to ear. “How was last night?”

“Fine.”

“Just fine?”

“That’s what I said.” Murphy was not looking pleased, but Bellamy was too curious.

“Come on, you came home early. Was she not interested? There’s other girls you know.”

“Like Clarke?” Murphy did not break eye contact as Bellamy tried not to express any emotion that shot through his body temporarily. He had no reason to care, he told himself.

“Sure…Clarke, if that’s who you’d rather…date.” Murphy’s left eyebrow lifted ever so slightly, challenging him. Bellamy held his ground.

“Maybe.” Murphy shrugged. “Maybe that’s why I’m reading this book, I need to find things for the two of us to talk about. Until the talking stops, if you know what I mean.” Murphy winked and Bellamy felt himself get a little warm. He assured himself he was just confused, Murphy had shown no interest yesterday, and was all over Emori. Although him and Clarke did talk way more last night, and they danced together, and did shots together…

“Relax.” Murphy finally said after what felt like forever. “Just messing with you.”

“Why is that messing with me?” Bellamy crossed his arms, trying to conceal the defensiveness from showing in his voice.

“Don’t think I didn’t see you cosying up to her last night. You practically fucking glowed after she complimented you. What, you think I didn’t see that whole weird moment where she touched your face?”

“I had an eyelash.” Bellamy knew he was losing this argument, whatever it was they seemed to be disagreeing about.

“If you had an eyelash, I would just tell you. Or I wouldn’t, I’d just leave it there. What I wouldn’t do is softly lean up and caress your check to remove it.” Murphy stated, matter-of-factly.

“You’re just trying to distract me from what happened with you and Emori last night.” Bellamy took a deep inhale, pushing past all these comments.

“We, two consenting adults, kissed. I walked a drunk woman home to be safe, then I proceeded to return to my apartment.” Murphy quipped. “It’s a real fairy tale romance story, I’m sure it’s a story we’ll tell our grandkids one day.”

“Fine, don’t tell me you two hooked up.” Bellamy started grabbing out the bread and cheese, his stomach finally feeling settled enough after coffee for him to eat something. A grilled cheese may have been a weird choice for breakfast, but it was good hangover food. 

“We didn’t.” Murphy said, very quickly. “We… just didn’t.”

“It’s not a big deal.” Bellamy shrugged, and noticed an expression he didn’t see on Murphy’s face a lot. He looked embarrassed. That was very unlike him, the boy usually didn’t get phased by anything.

“I know, but we just didn’t.”

“It’s got to have been a while for you, I can’t remember the last time you had a girl over. If ever.” Bellamy tried to recount, but couldn’t remember a single one.

“Maybe you just didn’t notice with all the women you have come through the door.” Murphy said this with no spite, so Bellamy didn’t care. His roommate was very chill with his activities provided they were quiet and in his room, and he was grateful.

“Maybe. So, it’s been a while for you, huh?” Bellamy raised his eyebrows suggestively.

“Yeah, about 22 years and counting.” Murphy said, deadpan. That took Bellamy a little by surprise.

“So you’ve never…?”  

“Lost my flower?” Murphy fluttered his eyelashes and raised his voice into a squeal. “Shockingly, no.”

“I just didn’t realise.”

“I was in juvie from 11 until 18, what, do you think I’ve had a lot of opportunities?”

“But you’ve been out for 4 years.”

“And busy.” Murphy nodded purposefully to his book. “Lots of things to see, and read, and explore.” Bellamy didn’t know why he was taken aback by this information. Maybe it was because of Murphy’s line of work, Murphy clearly had people attracted to him in close proximity. Even Bellamy had slept with people who’d seen him strip before (never anyone who'd hired him, and usually after the event, he was a professional after all) Clients were always giving out their numbers, and plenty of women liked Murphy. Bellamy knew he shouldn’t have just assumed, and knew he wasn’t making it any better by having seemed so surprised. Being a virgin wasn’t a big deal, just like having had sex wasn’t a big deal.

“So, Emori wanted to and you didn’t?” Bellamy queried.

“No. She kissed me when I was at her door and said ‘see you around’ before going inside” Murphy didn’t seem too phased by that.

“You interested?”

“Maybe. The woman is… intriguing.”

“That’s one way of putting it.” Bellamy nodded. He thought about Clarke. Maybe it was the same with all the women that worked there.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, thanks for reading! I know it's been over a week, I apologise. I finished uni last week so it's been a hectic time! Still, now I have more time to write so updates should be frequent. 
> 
> I have gone through and fixed the spelling mistakes in previous chapters (the ones I could find!) so it's better, however I am writing this chapter at 5:30am so there may be a couple of errors. I'll fix them asap when I reread or if you point them out.
> 
> Thanks to all of you for your support, your likes and comments mean a lot to me! Hope you're enjoying it so far.


	6. Waiter Gone Rogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! 2 updates in 24 hours, as I'm away from home from a few days and wanted to get out as much as possible. This one is a long one too! 
> 
> Quick warnings: This chapter has a minor mention of sexual assault, as well as a few mentions regarding domestic violence and murder. As this is a mature fic already, I figured doing some darker topics would be okay, as I think it's important to the story/characters. Just wanted to mention it for TWs. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy this chapter!

“Blake, can you please pay attention? That woman has been asking for you for bloody 10 minutes!” Clarke snapped over the bar, rubbing her temple. As it turns out, Bellamy’s attitude didn’t change much, and being in charge of him was a nightmare. He spent way too long with certain customers, he didn’t pay attention and he kept getting orders wrong and Clarke was the one getting all the shit for it. The hoard of misogynist middle age men present in the bar that night tended to blame the young, female bartender as opposed to the mature, friendly waiter.

“Need a break?” Wells asked Clarke, seeing her stress levels hitting a dangerous maximum.

“From him, absolutely.” Clarke snarled, and Wells gave her a sympathetic look. Clarke didn’t know what she was expecting, after the previous night she was sort of hoping Bellamy would be nicer. Easier to deal with maybe. But no such luck.

“Calm down Princess.” Bellamy cooed, returning with a tray of empty glasses and putting them in the wrong area. “I’m hungover, I’m doing the best I can.”

“If this is the best you can do, I am never scheduling you for another bar shift. Ever!”

“Hey, that’s harsh.”

“Murphy has made a fraction of the mistakes you have, and he drank at least twice more than you last night!”

Wells decided to interject. “Bellamy, she’s not wrong. You’re not trying enough. Waiting tables is the easiest job here, you shouldn’t be having these many problems.” Bellamy clenched his jaw. Wells and him didn’t seem to be getting along all too well.

“Bartending is easier.” Bellamy muttered, a little curve in his lip. Clarke scoffed. “Come on, you’re mostly pouring shots.”

“Fine.” Clarke decided to give in. “Come back here.” Bellamy grinned.

“You don’t have to ask twice.” Bellamy hopped over the bar, and got a little too close to Clarke for her liking. They waited a moment or two, and then the next customer came up to order at the bar.

“4 shots of gin and 2 old-fashioned.” The man demanded, with no greeting or please. Bellamy immediately looked puzzled. He got out the shot glasses, without putting them on a tray. Clarke didn’t say a word. Wells shot her a questioning look, but she just remained silent. Bellamy proceeded to pour out all 4 shots, spilling them a little which wasn’t a big deal.

“And how am I supposed to carry them over to my boys?” The man in front of them asked, tapping his fingers on the bar. He looked straight at Clarke, ignoring Wells. “What, you don’t want to help at all?”

“He’s being trained, he’ll serve you.” Clarke explained, gritting her teeth. The man tutted, but said nothing. Bellamy was clumsily trying to lift the glasses onto a tray, but split them as he’d filled them to the top. He refilled them, and the man told him to hurry up.

“What else did you want Sir?” Bellamy asked, and Clarke nearly laughed. 2 drinks and he couldn’t even remember the types? She had people listing off 9 different cocktails to her thinking she would be able to produce them magically if they listed them all off quickly enough, and she managed just fine.

“I want two old fashioned.” The man repeated, clearly exasperated. Bellamy muddled around with glasses for 10 seconds, before turning to Clarke.

“Okay, you win. I don’t know what’s in those.” Clarke immediately grinned. She turned to the customer.

“Your drinks are on the house sir, if you’d like to take your seat, we’ll bring them right over.” The man rolled his eyes and returned to his seat in front of Raven who was giving an excellent performance. Clarke wondered how the girl always seemed full of energy, when she worked hours a day, usually always exercising. Clarke figured it would be exhausting.

“Well that was fun to watch.” Wells said sarcastically, getting back to stacking glasses while Clarke made the drinks. Bellamy hopped back over the bar, turning to face Clarke.

“I’m sorry, I got defensive. I don’t like being bad at stuff, especially not stuff other people could do in their sleep.” He sounded sincere.

“Fine. Go take these over to the man. Apologise.” She told him sternly. She placed the perfect drinks on the tray, and Bellamy nodded. He walked on over to the man, paused for a moment and before Clarke knew what was happening, she watched Bellamy throw the tray all over the man’s lap. Clarke shrieked, and the customer did too. His friends on either side jumped up to make sure they weren’t wet. The man stood up and started screaming in Bellamy’s face. Bellamy didn’t seem to mind too much, but that only seem to anger the gentleman more. Clarke froze as she saw the man lift up his arm and smack a fist straight into Bellamy’s jaw.

“Hey!” Wells shouted and stormed out from behind the bar. Bellamy hadn’t tried to hit back, but his lip was already bleeding and the man looked ready to go again. Raven had stopped her routine, and had come off the stage to see what was going on. Murphy had come over, looking furious and standing beside Bellamy, seemingly in case there was a fight.

“I demand to see the manager; this fucker threw a tray of drinks on me!” The man was shoving Wells who was trying to calm him down. Clarke rushed over and quickly grabbed Bellamy, pulling him out of arms reach of any of the men who looked ready to attack him.

“What the fuck Bellamy? You throw a drink the second a customer is rude to you?” Clarke whispered at him, furious.

“No. Just…trust me, he deserved it.” Bellamy stared at her, and she looked at him for any hint that he wasn’t being truthful. “Trust me.” Clarke exasperated, turned the man and tried to look as innocent as possible.

“Bellamy here didn’t mean to, I saw him trip over. This has all been a misunderstanding. Mr Jaha over here is our manager, and if you’d like to file a complaint, he’d be more than happy to discuss the situation. However, you did just assault a staff member, so I think it’s best if you leave.” Wells looked perplexed for a moment, but Clarke urged him to play along.

“I can report him, but that would mean I’d have to write you up as well Sir.” Wells sounded somewhat nervous, but the idea of being “written up” despite it meaning nothing, seemed to worry the man. He shook his head.

“Let’s go.” He said to his friends, and they all headed off. The rest of the customers (which luckily wasn’t too many as Raven was the last dancer of the night, it was approaching 3am) were talking among themselves, some of the drunker ones were laughing at the man who was leaving dripping wet. As they cleared off, Clarke pulled Bellamy back stage to near the toilets. There was a cupboard there that carried first aid stuff and Clarke wanted to check his lip.

“What the fuck Bellamy, you have to explain yourself. Now.” Clarke snarled, pulling him by the hand until she could sit him down. She pulled out the first aid kit, and tilted his jaw up. It looked to be already bruising.

“He’s gone, does it matter?”

“Yes. If Jaha had been here, we would all be fucking screwed. If he finds out, I put my neck out on the line for you and I’m already on thin fucking ice.” Bellamy tried to smirk, but when he moved his mouth he winced.

“Been bad at your job?” Bellamy asked, and Clarke frowned, dabbing a cotton wool ball with some disinfectant. She heard Raven’s music restart again, which was a sign the crowd outside had calmed down at least.

“Not as bloody bad as you.”

“You swear a lot when you’re angry.” Bellamy noted.

“At least I don’t throw drinks.”

“I don’t normally.” He sighed. “Just don’t say anything to her, but I went over and the dude made a comment about Raven.”

“That’s it? That’s normal here, Raven is used to all the inappropriate comments, it’s part of the job, sadly. You’ve done this before, even you must have gotten a bunch.”

“Not like this. He said…he’d enjoy…” Bellamy grimaced, looking repulsed. “Sexually assaulting her. To put it nicely.” Clarke felt her blood boil. Fucking asshole. She finished cleaning up the split lip and ran a clean cloth under the cold water in a sink in the breakroom. She rinsed it and placed it on Bellamy’s jaw. He winced, but it seemed to soothe the pain of his jaw quickly.

“Thank you.” Bellamy said quietly.

“No, thank you. You risked your job to do that. He deserved it. Hell, I would have done a lot worse if I’d heard him. As would Raven.”

“I don’t doubt that.” Clarke looked down. With him sat there, her holding a cloth to his face and looking down at him, he looked very fragile. Not like the arrogant man who’d come into the club and immediately settled in at all. Softer.

“Why did you think I did it? Because he was rude to you?” Bellamy queried. “Did you think I was defending your honour?”

“If you think _he_ was rude to me, you should hear most of the other customers I have.” Clarke moved the clothe so a colder section was touching his face again.

“Plenty of assholes walking through the door, eh?”

“Yes, some of them even work here.” Clarke smiled, her voice gentle. She wasn’t trying to be cruel, just trying to lift some of the tension she was feeling.

 He was looking at her, seemingly lost in thought. Clarke tried to think of somebody else to say, but part of her just didn’t want to say another thing. There was something about the silence that reminded her of when she removed the eyelash from his cheek last night. _You have the most beautiful eyes_ , he’d told her. She wondered if maybe he was thinking about the same thing, as he seemed to be fixed on them. She tried to think of the last time somebody had paid her such a genuinely sweet compliment.

They remained in their little staring contest for a while, each one them not wanting to say anything. Clarke only looked away once she heard Raven’s song end, which meant people would start heading out and things needed to be packed away. Plus, Jaha wasn’t here which meant most people working would come and grab a drink and help with the chairs, to get them ready for the cleaner to do the floor in the morning.

“Think I can still perform looking like this?” Bellamy said, talking at last and gesturing to his face. Clarke lifted the cloth from his jaw. It was going to bruise, and the split lip wouldn’t be fixed overnight.

“Sure, but it’ll be at least a couple of weeks and Jaha will give you shit if he sees.”

“What can I do?” Bellamy seemed stressed at the idea of missing work. Clarke considered the options. She looked at Bellamys skin tone, and figured it was maybe a colour Raven might have as a concealer or something.

“Come in before your shifts and I’ll throw some concealer on there. Cover the whole thing up and make sure Jaha doesn’t see it, because I’ll get in trouble too. Deal?” Clarke wondered if he’d protest to the make-up at all, some guys were weird about it.

“I actually have some concealer.” Bellamy admitted, and Clarke was a little surprised. “I’m not immune to the odd blemish and my face is my job. I’d be an idiot to lose out on some tips because I look like a puberty ridden pre-teen covered in spots, and all because I think I’m too masculine for a little make-up.”

“No judgement here.”

“Could you still help me out though? I’m not that good at it and it needs to stay on the face for my performance. Do you have any of the…” Bellamy trailed off, forgetting the word. He pretended to dab at his face with some kind of sponge or brush.

“Powder?” Clarke asked, taking a guess. Bellamy’s eyes lit up.

“Yes! Octavia used to go on at me about the stuff, saying it kept her make up on all day.” Clarke was almost impressed he listened to his sister about such things. It was a little endearing. She agreed to come equipped with some things to cover up the bruising, and they headed out to finish their shifts. Clarke poured Bellamy a stiff one, figuring it to be decent pain relief. Everybody crowded him, asking him what had happened but he stuck with the story that he just tripped.

“Total accident. I’m pretty shit at my job, isn’t that right, Princess?” Bellamy turned to Clarke who was refilling the ice tray.

“The worse I’ve seen.” She said, mostly meaning it.

Wells cornered her the second he could. “Clarke, what are you doing? We both know he didn’t trip. That guy must have some anger issues or something.”

“He does not. He had a good reason for doing it, trust me.”

“I trust you, I just don’t trust him. He does nothing but fuck up, he mocks your job, he basically assaults a customer and creates a scene and you go play doctor for him? If anybody else acted like that, you’d put them in their place, and they’d be out of here in no time. Why’s he any different?” Clarke knew he was right. Most people who came through the door couldn’t deal with the job, and Clarke let them know that. She didn’t hold back, it was better in the long run.

“He’s Octavia’s brother.” Clarke pointed out, hoping that was explanation enough.

“Please, Octavia wouldn’t be pissed if he got fired for being terrible.”

“I can’t fire anybody, I’m not the manager!” She insisted, trying to side step past Wells but she wasn’t able to.

“My dad listens to you far more than anybody else around him, even if you’re not his favourite person right now. If you told him to fire that dude, he would.” Wells sighed. “I’m not saying you should do it. Maybe he’s a good guy, maybe he’s a good dancer, maybe today was an off day for him.” Typical Wells, Clarke thought, he wanted to see the best in everybody.

“Just trust me, he’s not that bad. Get to know him.” Clarke assured him, and with that she dodged around Wells and finished up her jobs. Everybody had started to filter out, Murphy and Bellamy were the last two there other than Wells and Clarke who needed to lock up. Clarke was a little sad she didn’t get to question Monty about the text she’d gotten this morning, and he’d still not responded to her. Wells went to the bathroom as Bellamy returned to the back stage to retrieve his things from his locker. Murphy slid over to stand by Clarke who was waiting with the keys.

“So, boy bartender doesn’t like the Professor.” It wasn’t a question.

“Observant.”

“Just an assumption. Most people don’t like Bellamy, statistically it’s always better to guess they don’t like him.” Murphy thought for a moment. “Actually, I take that back. Most _men_ don’t like him.”

“But women do?”

“You tell me.” Murphy said quietly, and Clarke felt herself get a little warm.

“How would I know?” Murphy gave her a look, and Clarke scoffed. “Don’t.” She nearly laughed at the idea.

“I’m not saying _you_ do. Maybe you can just understand why.” Murphy seemed a little more genuine than his usual sober self. “I’m just saying, women like Bellamy, and he likes women. But never for long.” Was Murphy...warning her that Bellamy was a player? Did he think she was going to fall madly in love with the guy and get her heart broken or something? Please!

“I’m not interested.” Clarke assured him.

“Good, he’s all mine then.” Murphy grinned and Clarke couldn’t help but grin too. Murphy was looking out for her, that was actually quite sweet, even if he needn’t of bothered.

“So, things got pretty wild last night.” Clarke commented, and Murphy nodded.

“Yeah, can’t believe I did a triple backflip off the bar perfectly while everybody was looking the other way.” He said, and Clarke rolled her eyes, laughing.

“Can’t believe I made out with Emori.” Clarke replied, and watched Murphy narrow his eyes at her.

“You wish.” Clarke shrugged.

“I’ve thought about it, Emori is hot. I think it’s the attitude.” Murphy didn’t seem phased at all by this comment, for which Clarke was glad.

“You don’t have to tell me.” Murphy looked down, a little uncomfortable. “Does she…do that with people often?”

“Are you asking me if that is something she does often so you can determine whether it meant something to her?” Murphy nodded quickly, clearly not glad to be having his conversation.

“I just want to know if she’s expecting, I dunno, a text from me. Or if it’s not a big deal, I can leave it.”

“You haven’t text her?” Clarke asked. “Do you even have her number?”

“Yeah, she gave it to me during my first pole class, Raven and Echo too. They said it’s a good thing to have the numbers of people who work here, for shift changes and nights out.” Clarke nodded. That was the usual procedure.

“And you haven’t text her yet? It’s been a full day.”

“I know.” Murphy shifted where he was standing. “I’m not good at this shit.”

“You and me both.” Clarke muttered under her breathe, thinking back to Finn. And to Lexa. “Just send her a message, ask her to get a drink. Tell her last night was fun. Tell her you’re madly in love with her if you want to. Just send the text, or you’ll miss any chance you may have.” Murphy immediately got out his phone and typed something. Clarke resisted the urge to sneak a look to see what he was saying. She was kind of rooting for these two.

“Sent.” He said, sounded a little nervous, which Clarke was very surprised at. He passed the phone to Clarke, allowing her to read the message seemingly for approval.

_‘Hey, it’s Murphy, the guy from last night. That was fun. Can I buy you a drink, maybe when we’re not surrounded by nosy co-workers? P.S Bellamy was punched in the face tonight by a customer. You do not know Bell that well, but trust me, it’s a good thing.’_

“Smooth.” Clarke passed the phone back and nodded as way of approval. The phone dinged almost immediately, and Murphy checked it. Clarke figured Emori would reply the second she got a message. She was not one for waiting around or playing games.

“She wants to grab a coffee.” Murphy said, and Clarke could see he was trying not to smile. The phone dinged again, and Murphy did crack a smile reading it. “She says it took me long enough to ask.”

“Good for you.” Clarke looked around and checked if the other two were around, but it seemed like they were taking their time. “So, what made you freak out last night? Playing the game?”

“I don’t recall.” Murphy said, blatantly lying.

“We’re basically best friends Murphy.” Clarke joked, “I want to know why you couldn’t answer a question about regrets.” Murphy shot her a very serious brooding look.

“It was a stupid question. Not everybody regrets the worse thing they’ve ever done.”

“You don’t?”

“I’ll make you a deal, I’ll share the worst thing I’ve ever done, if you share too.” Murphy challenged Clarke, staring at her, seeing if you take him up on it.

“Fine.” Clarke clenched her jaw, stressed. She didn’t exactly want to say hers. She could lie, but that felt cheap.

“I spent seven years in a juvenile detention centre.” Murphy stated quietly, and Clarke tried not to react too strongly. “My parents split up young, and I got a stepdad shortly after. He used to smack my mum around. I’d wake up and there would be new bruises, another black eye, you name it. For years, I did nothing. And then she got pregnant, and he kept doing it.”

“Murphy…I’m…”

“You don’t need to say anything Clarke.” He said, not rudely, but sternly enough she knew he meant it. She placed an hand on his shoulder. “She had the kid, and one night it wouldn’t stop crying. She didn’t know how to make her stop, and the old man threatened to shot the baby to _make_ her stop. My mum begged him not to, and she got a bit too vocal, so he said maybe he’d start with her. So, I took his gun out of his drawer, and when he came to collect it or go to bed or whatever he was doing, I shot him in the head.” Clarke took in a sharp breath. Murphy seemed to check on her reaction, and was surprised to see her eyes swelling up a little. The hand she had placed on him shook a little, but it didn’t come off.

“I’m not dangerous Clarke.” He said, quietly. He brought his hands up, seemingly to comfort her in some way but thought better of it and they dropped back down. 

“I know. It’s not that…” Clarke tried to stop herself from showing anything, but it was difficult.

“Take it there’s a reason you’re not a West Downs girl anymore?” Murphy took a stab in the dark. Funny thing about abuse, it sticks out like a neon sign once you've experienced it. 

“There is.” Clarke didn’t elaborate, and Murphy didn’t make her. Instead, he carried on explaining the situation.

“They said I was psychotic, locked me up for as long as they could with the charges and here I am. My mother never came to visit. My little sister is out there, nearly a teenager now, and I don’t think she knows I exist.” Murphy carried on, unable to stop the words spilling out now. “But I don’t regret what I did. I can’t. I sleep better at night thinking I did what I could to protect them.” Clarke nodded, unable to come up with the words. Murphy reached into his pocket, pulled out his wallet and pulled out a tattered old photograph.

“Grabbed it before they hauled my ass away for good.” He showed her a photo of a brunette woman holding a baby up to her face nearly. It was a close up, but Clarke couldn’t imagine the baby was older than a couple months. “She goes to a school nearby, I check up on the two of them when I can. I’ve been posting money through the letter box since I got out, never with a note or anything. I hope they’re using it.”

“You’ve not tried to contact your mom?”

“She left a scared eleven-year-old to rot in juvie. She saw me in court, and told me she hated me for taking away the father of her child, the man she loved. Can’t imagine that family reunion going well.”

“What’s your sisters name?” Clarke asked, as Murphy touched the photograph lightly with one finger. 

“Charlotte.” Murphy said, his voice so delicate and nearly unrecognisable.

Bellamy cleared his throat behind Clarke, and Murphy and her looked up. Murphy slipped the photograph back into his wallet and Clarke tried to conceal the fact she had welled up.

“Everything okay?” Bellamy asked, eyeing up Clarke was she swiped a tear away from the top of her cheek. 

“Yeah, just informing Clarke here of how you suck at every job you have, not just waitressing.” Murphy seemed back to normal now, although he quickly turned to Clarke and muttered, “You still owe me the worst thing you’ve ever done.”

Wells shortly returned, complaining about the state of the bathrooms. “Drunk people are disgusting.” He noted before they locked up and the group headed their separate ways. Clarke’s head was reeling as she tried to get to sleep with everything that had happened that night. What a weird one.


	7. Conceal, Don't Feel

“Keep still.” Clarke hissed as she dabbed a beauty blender over Bellamy’s jaw for the 50th time to make sure it was blended it. He’d winced, again, because it was a painful, repetitive motion. Clarke, however, seemed to have no sympathy.

“You’re smacking a sensitive bruise.” Bellamy responded, his ego wounded. She muttered something about him learning his lesson which he was not paying enough attention to. This was the third-time Clarke was doing his make-up and it was fucking his head up being this close to her. He told himself it was normal, she was an attractive woman and any person would be finding it difficult to maintain a level of professional while she was so close to them. But he couldn’t remember the last time somebody smelt this good. He couldn’t remember the last time somebody looked so good. In fact, he couldn’t remember anything around her, because of the aforementioned messing up of his head.

“Nearly done.” She said quietly, as Murphy entered the backstage and said hello. _Sweet distractions_ , Bellamy thought.

“Hey there.” Bellamy said, trying to sound as casual as possible, as if this were a normal situation where he was not experiencing lack of breathe and sweaty palms. Murphy already had enough reason to think he was interested in Clarke, despite their obvious reluctance to spend time together, and he did not want to add fuel to that fire.

Murphy took one look at Clarke so close to him and couldn’t resist making a comment. “Apologies, am I interrupting something?” He smirked.

“Yes, clearly.” Clarke said, voice laced with sarcasm. “More importantly, where are you taking Emori for your date tomorrow?” This surprised Bellamy, as Murphy had mentioned no such date. He’d not even said he’d made any progression with Emori. How did Clarke know?

“Date?” Bellamy was grateful for the distraction, but momentarily forgot what was happening and took a deep inhale through his nose in response to Clarke brushing powder over his brush. He inhaled a mouthful of setting powder, as well as caught the scent of Clarkes hair products, which smelt like strawberry and mint. Never a combination he thought he would enjoy before. Clarke laughed a little as she saw Bellamy snort up make-up, but did change her technique to be a little gentler on the healing bruises. Bellamy regretted his decision to ask her for help, if only for a moment.

“Yes Bellamy, they are gatherings that grown-ups with healthy relationships engage with.” Clarke chuckled, and Murphy smiled too. Bellamy’s eyes flickered between the two of them. Where had this friendliness come from? Murphy was as closed off as they came, he never liked anybody. Bellamy had worked to get that boy to open up to him in the beginning. How were Clarke and him already best buddies? Why did Clarke know about the date and Bellamy didn’t? He didn’t even care that Clarke was mocking him, he simply was feeling left off and frankly a little jealous that Murphy had settled in so easily.

“I asked Emori out for coffee, it’s no big deal. Clarke gave me some much needed advice.”

“That’s great!” Bellamy smiled, and Murphy looked irritated as he fiddled with his costume. Octavia had been cruel to give him the police officers uniform, but Bellamy hadn’t told her the context behind Murphy’s time behind bars. She assumed he was just some petty criminal, out to corrupt her brothers innocence ( _that ship sailed a while ago_ , Bellamy mused).

“Alright, I’m done.” Clarke took a step back to admire her work, and Bellamy winked at her.

“How stunning do I look?” Bellamy couldn’t resist teasing. She rolled her eyes, then checked up watch.

“You’re on in 10 minutes, you should get ready.”

“You’re the one that insisted on doing the make-up while I was out of costume.” Bellamy pointed out. In fact, it had been her one rule to her assisting him.

“I’m aware.” She started to back out of the room. “Murphy, let me know how tomorrow goes. It’s my day off too, so text me. Bellamy, stay out of trouble.”

“I don’t need your supervision, Princess!” Bellamy protested, as she was already walking away. Of course, he knew he was secretly going to miss her presence tomorrow. He was working a shift when she wasn’t on bar for once, and it would probably be weird knowing it was only Wells out there and not her. He’d gotten used to giving her little looks throughout the performances, it was oddly satisfying knowing she was out there. Bellamy shook his head, as if trying to rid himself of his thoughts. Perhaps a little time away from Clarke would be a good thing.

Bellamy quickly threw on his costume, and got to taking out his contacts to replace with the glasses. He never wore them out of the house, so carrying them to work and wearing them doing his performance was odd. He had no idea why Octavia was so insistent on him wearing his own, he guessed because fake ones were difficult to size. He did worry they would fall off of his head though, he would need to secure them when he got a little more confident on the pole.

He was really enjoying the change in pace this job had provided. The pole was a whole new challenge, and the near daily training with Raven had done wonders to his strength. He’d not noticed before too much, but that girl was strong as hell physically. Pole fitness was no joke, and she showed it.

The people were also a good reason why he was enjoying this job. His somewhat complicated friendship/enemies thing with Clarke aside, the people were great. Raven was confident, Emori was fierce, Monty was a sweetheart, Jasper was hilarious and Lincoln was interesting as hell. Working with them, alongside Octavia and Murphy, was a dream team. Even the quiet girls, Echo and Anya, as well as Wells were growing on him, even though he never saw them outside of work.

Okay, honestly, Bellamy liked Wells a little less, but that was mostly because the dude seemed intent on catching him out. He was far harsher than he needed to be, and seemed to send him off on some useless errand when he was working bar whenever he even tried talking to Clarke. Bellamy considered that Wells may be in love with his flatmate, and that he was jealous, but Bellamy dismissed the idea as unlikely. Not because of Clarke, just because Wells and her seemed to be too close for that. Still, Bellamy did wonder. Bellamy wondered a lot of things about Clarke, few of them he ever confirmed. That girl was determined to talk to him as little as possible about as little as possible.

Bellamy stretched for the last few minutes he had before his set. He turned to Murphy, who was quietly reading another book.

“Why didn’t you tell me about Emori?” He asked, trying not to sound butt-hurt about such a trivial thing.

“I was going to. But I didn’t want to blow the thing out of proportion. We work with her, maybe she doesn’t want her co-workers knowing her business.” Bellamy was oddly impressed by this response. It was more than justified to keep a date quiet for the sake of the other person, and Murphy had a valid point. But when why did Clarke know? As if reading Bellamy's mind, Murphy added. “I asked Clarke for advice over you because she knows Emori. I wanted to know if Emori was interested, or if I was going to make a jackass of myself by asking her out.”

“I get it.” Bellamy nodded, and smiled, knowing Murphy would not want to drag out the conversation. With perfect timing, Bellamy heard his introduction from the stage and was met with an array of wolf whistling and yells. He focused on his routine, hearing Raven’s voice in his head indicating his directions and movements. He smiled at woman screaming at him, and glanced up to try and spot Clarke a couple times. Although it was difficult to see through the lights that shone on the stage, he caught sight of her chatting with Monty, who was rarely out of his booth. Bellamy pushed past it, and finished with a little extra flourish. He received a good amount of cash for his additional enthusiasm at the end, which was nice. Another thing about this job was that it paid far better than his old one. Bellamy grabbed his costume, grabbed at the cash while still dancing a little to exit music, as everybody did, and left the stage.

He wished Murphy a quick good luck, then quickly got dressed. He contemplated putting contacts back in, but decided against it as he’d simply take them out when he got home away. He did a quick check in the mirror. His hair was still kept back with a little product as it normally was, and his make-up was still on perfectly, despite the small beads of sweat magnifying his freckles. He threw some cool water onto his face from the tap backstage, then tapped his face clean, ensuring to remove the concealer. Jaha was not here, and as much as he appreciated the effort Clarke put in, he didn’t love what the make-up had done to his skin when he’d forgotten it and left it on while he slept. His bruise was still prominent, and he’d need to cover it up himself tomorrow. His lip was mainly fine now, it was just a little scab and slightly redder at the edges. Nothing too out of place.

He headed out to find Clarke alone again, without Monty. He must have returned to his booth by now.

“Hey.” He grinned, and took a seat. Clarke hardly acknowledged him, keeping an eye on him but not saying anything. Bellamy’s eyebrows furrowed a little, but this wasn’t exactly unusual for Clarke. She soon seemed to busy herself again, and grabbed him a glass.

“What will it be?” She asked. Bellamy shrugged.

“Water please.” She raised an eyebrow. “I’m still recovering from the night out last week. I’m old, can’t go out partying every night like you young people.” She passed him some water with a lemon in it, which he supposed was her way of showing a little bit of creativity in her work.

“You’ve…left the glasses on.” Clarke pointed out, her finger flicking between the two frames.

“Yeah.” Bellamy agreed, and then he realised why this was weird to her. “They’re mine. I take my contacts out for the show.”

“They’re yours?” Bellamy tried to read the look on her face, but couldn’t. She seemed very surprised by this very normal revelation. Her voice was tight, as if the words struggled to be formed. 

“I know, I’m not perfect as you think.” He joked, trying to offset some of her odd behaviour tonight.

“Perfect pain in my ass.” She scoffed, returning to her usual snarky self. “So, speaking of the other night.” Bellamy suddenly felt a surge of panic coursing through his body. She’d been quite quiet about that night. After he’d made things weird with his comments. How they’d actually spoken about real things for the first time ever and actually tolerated each other. How she’d opened up a fraction of an inch to him on their walk back to his. All the inappropriate thoughts he’d had of her as they were walking back to his. Not that she knew about that last part.

“Monty told me that Jasper flirted with him!” She revealed, not noticing the panic spreading across Bellamy’s face at her comment. He relaxed. “Apparently, he whispered in his ear when he was dared to kiss Monty. Something like “not like this!””. Clarke opened her jaw in fake shock, trying to mock Bellamy’s reaction, who was surprised. Jasper liked Monty, of course, but liked in that way? Nobody would have guessed. Least of all Monty himself.

“I hope it works out for those two. I’m rooting for them.” Bellamy smiled, and Clarke smiled too. He noticed the pinkness glowing on her cheeks, the little slight crinkle next to her eyes when she truly meant the smile. Not like when she smiled at customers. The crinkle was clearly reserved for bigger, better smiles. The ones rarely flashed at Bellamy.

“Thought you weren’t a romantic.” Clarke pointed out, referring back to Bellamy saying he was not the dating type. Bellamy considered this statement. Was he romantic? He didn’t exactly believe in true love, and certainly didn’t date for long, but he didn’t reject the idea of relationships. He’d just not met somebody he wanted one with, simple as that.

“I have dimensions.” He simply replied, which Clarke didn’t seem to have a clever response to.

“Drink please!” A voice from the entrance declared, and Clarke snapped her head round at Bellamy.

“It’s fucking Jaha, jump over here.” She demanded, and Bellamy didn’t have to be told twice. He was aware he’d be in deep shit if Jaha saw his face, mostly because Clarke kept reminding him. He swung himself over the bar, knocking his glass off in the process which proceeded to smash on the floor. Clarke hissed “Duck!” and Bellamy did just that. Next to Clarke’s legs, he shifted his entire body into the bar, ignoring the broken glass around him. Jaha approached the bar and scowled at Clarke.

“Really Clarke, breaking equipment?” Jaha sighed. “It’s coming out of your pay check.”

“Fine.” Clarke said. She then poured out a gin, placed some ice cubes in the glass silently until Bellamy heard her slide the glass over the counter. Jaha seemed to walk away without a thank you or another word. Bellamy did not get up however, instead Clarke ducked down, clearly frustrated.

“You’re paying for that.” She informed him. She began to use a dish cloth to pick up bigger pieces of the broken glass.

“What did you do to him?” Bellamy asked, helping with the glass. He did feel bad.

“Nothing.” Bellamy saw her nostrils flair, and her lips purse slightly. “Drop it.”

“I’m just interested.” Bellamy defended himself, feeling annoyed Clarke was being so defensive.

“It’s personal, as in none of your business.” She whispered fiercely, trying not to attract attention from customers or Jaha.  

“Fine. Be like that.” Bellamy decided to let a little steam off his chest. “All I’ve done since getting here is try and be friendly to you, and you throw it back in my face every time.”

“Please! Is this friendly to you? You’ve mocked my past, insulted my job and caused issues for me at every chance you got. You’ve made work unbearable with your attitude, and your fucking ego and…and…” She exhaled, staring at Bellamy for a moment or two too long while her ocean coloured eyes flickered quickly between his. Bellamy got caught up in it, forgetting everything she just said that he would normally get defensive about. He was so aware of exactly how close they were, he’d instinctively moved closer to her while they’d been whispering, his body nearly parallel to hers, their faces so very close, staring at each other. He could feel her breathe tickle his cheek as she exhaled.

“And what?” He prompted, his voice hushed. The busyness and noise of the club seemed to fade into the background, all simply white noise now.

“And…You’re a distraction.” Her voice was quiet, but Bellamy heard it very clearly. A distraction? He resisted the urge to smile. That didn’t sound so negative.

“You need to get out before Jaha sees you and you get us both get fired.” Clarke announced in her usual volume, getting up off the ground and throwing the glass into the bin. As much as Bellamy wanted to carry on this conversation, he agreed with her for once. He needed the job. He got up silently, and ducked under the section of the bar designed to lift into an entrance.

“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.” Bellamy said, sincere. “I have been rude. And I appreciate how patient and tolerating you’ve been.” He did not wait for her to respond, but instead left before he caused her more issues. He left Clarke to the rest of her night, while he spent the rest of his pondering the most pressing question in his head. Did Clarke want to kiss him as much as he’d wanted to kiss her in that moment?

 

* 

 

The next day went without too much of a worry for Bellamy. He had training in the morning, which was a nice way to spend some time focusing on something other than the possibility that he could be developing feelings for his co-worker. Raven was impressed with his steady advancement, and without Murphy there was able to spend a lot more time working on his form. Bellamy, instead of going home, decided to stay in the club and do some college revision until he was ready to go out there. He only paused to eat, conceal his bruises and chat with Jasper when he arrived. Classes had officially been over for a couple of weeks, but exam time was soon and Bellamy, while quietly confident, knew he should revise to keep a steady head. Still, Jasper was a laugh to talk to. Bellamy did not want to be rude, and figured he'd been working hard all day. 

Jasper did not say anything about Monty, and Bellamy felt it was not his place to ask, as much as he was interested. Clarke had shared that information privately, and he wanted to not get involved with any drama that could arise from a gossip situation. Bellamy had the late shift, so was waiting a while in costume for a while, but he had the biggest crowd by far. He got very lucky with tips, and didn't focus too much on the fact every time he looked up, Wells was at the bar and not Clarke. It was a late night, and although he was aching and wanting to go home, Bellamy stayed to help with the bar. Wells seemed surprised by this gesture, as if he assumed Bellamy would only help if Clarke was there. He seemed very appreciative, and Bellamy was glad to see a slightly less stern version of Wells. 

As Bellamy approached his apartment, he recounted how his life had been very different a few weeks ago. Now he was working with his sister, enjoying his well-paying job and able to spend time working on college. His old job had him travelling frequently for jobs out of town or even out of state. Yet he never saw any kind of reimbursement for the travelling and often made exactly the same out of the job. He unlocked his door and kicked off his shoes, noticing a pair of combat boots next to the doorway that were out of place. He'd seen them before though, on Clarke. When he'd been bent down under the bar, he noticed the shoes straight away. He looked up to the kitchen, and sure enough, Clarke's jacket was laid out on the kitchen counter. There were two glasses out, which meant it they had to belong to Murphy and Clarke. Bellamy tried to hear if he could hear them talking, maybe Emori was about too? He could see the light on in Murphy's room. He listened to hear anything, and he heard what sounded like hushed voices. It was approaching 4am, surely they weren't just hanging out in there? 

Bellamy tried to ignore what his gut was telling him was happening. Were Clarke and Murphy seriously hooking up? After all that crap he'd given Bellamy about not sleeping with co-workers over the years? After all the teasing Murphy had done to insist Bellamy was interested in Clarke? Would Murphy really go around and sleep with Clarke after kissing and making plans with Emori? 

Maybe there were no plans, maybe Clarke and Murphy were covering something else up. After all, they'd only mentioned it to Bellamy yesterday. 

Emotions boiled within Bellamy that he couldn't quite distinguish. Anger that they'd not told him. Jealousy that he didn't want to think about. Resentment that the two of them seemed to have their own little thing going on this whole time. Even more anger at himself for caring. They were two adults, they could do what they pleased. They didn't owe him shit. 

Bellamy couldn't deal with it anymore, and stormed into his room. He flopped down onto his bed, squeezing a pillow and telling himself he was being ridiculous. Sleep did not come easily to Bellamy that night. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My original plan was for this chapter to be shorter, but I suppose it got away from me! I hope you all like it, I am nervous that it's dragging out, and that it's going too quickly all at once. Now I have hit 20,000 I am realising this is certainly going to be a long one!


	8. Requiem for a Date

A night off was exactly what Clarke needed. Bellamy Blake was screwing with her, and she wasn’t about to let herself be charmed by such a transparent attempt to make her fall at his feet for some one night stand. If that was what he was trying, it was never going to work.

Being around him every day was just confusing her, she was mistaking her appreciation for simple good looks as attraction and interest, simply because he could get a reaction from her. Just because he was good at his job, did not mean Clarke would be drawn it. He was a colleague, and Clarke would be damned if she let herself once again mistake physical openness as emotional vulnerability. That was her mistake with Lexa. She assumed she knew the woman, because how could she not? She watched Lexa take her clothes off nearly every night, watched her perform on stage and assumed she wasn’t playing another character behind the scenes. All because Clarke told herself Lexa was _different_ with her. How foolish Clarke had been.

Clarke finished her glass of wine while throwing her laundry into the machine. She’d been hoping for more of a relaxing evening, as her half-read book stared at her abandoned on the shelf, but chores came first. Her phone buzzed as she considered pouring herself another glass.

**Busy?**

Clarke read the message from Murphy, and replied immediately.

**Hardly.**

She checked the time, and it was only 7. She assumed he wouldn’t even be done with his date yet, unless it was an early afternoon one.

**Fancy a drink? You’re already 4 behind.**

Clarke took a look at the half finished wine bottle in front of her.

**Only 2 actually. Meet you at the bar?**

 

**At mine. Do you need the address?**

Clarke wasn’t exactly surprised that Murphy was this clear about what he wanted, but the fact he was asking to hang out after his date, and he was drinking, seemed like a bad idea. She shot Emori a quick text about it, simply asking how the date went, before replying to Murphy that she’d be over and she knew where it was. Murphy did not reply.

It was only a 15 minute walk at best, and Clarke fired off another quick message to ask Murphy for the apartment number. Murphy did not answer, but she heard the buzz on the building go off and she entered, making her way up to the middle floor of the small structure. She hopped up the stairs quickly and entered. She was greeted by a cream living room with brown couches. A patterned tan rug lay on the floor, and the walls had shelves full of books and a couple of nick-nacks like an antique style globe and a few glass paper weights. The room was open plan with a kitchen, so Clarke saw the accompanying kitchen was just as tidy and put together. Not at all what Clarke was expecting.

She saw Murphy, slumped on the small breakfast bar with a glass in hand. He smiled at her, but it was clearly forced. He didn’t even wait for her to speak, he simply passed her a drink which she took a swig of without muttering a word. She took a seat, took off her coat and finally opened her mouth.

“So, I assume the date did not go well.”

“You would be correct.” Murphy finished his drink and hastily poured another. Clarke wondered if this was healthy, or if she should stop him, but she figured he was an adult who could make his own choices. While she cared about him, she knew he was in a bad mood and probably needed the outlet. She eyed him up and down. His hair was pushed back, tidier than usual and his face was freshly shaved. A deep green shirt hung from him, untucked from black jeans that were not ripped, which Clarke was yet to see on Murphy. The faintest smell of aftershave could be traced on him, and Clarke felt a pang of empathy considering how much effort he'd gone into. He obviously like Emori, more than she'd assumed when he had asked for her advice. Murphy did not scream "fuckboy", but he also had that dark side that Clarke saw glimpses of, and she didn't know how that translated in his dating. For all she knew, he did this kind of thing a lot. Still, looking at him now she had to assume this was something he cared about. 

“What happened?” Clarke sipped her drink, taking in the acidity and feeling the coolness glide over her tongue and down her throat. Murphy exhaled through his nose in a half-chuckle sort of way.

“I happened.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Clarke looked at Murphy, and couldn't help but feel sorry for him. Here was a boy so clearly unsure of himself. He seemed to radiate self-loathing in a way Clarke hadn’t seen on anyone before. Despite their obvious quick connection, it seemed Murphy did not have a knack for making friends. In fact, it appeared as though Bellamy was his only one until recently, and even then, Clarke could see the signs that Murphy was keeping his distance. 

“Eargh.” Murphy rubbed his forehead with one hand, and grimaced.

“We don’t have to talk about it.” Clarke assured him. She finished her drink and Murphy took no time in filling it up again. The vodka burnt the back of her throat, but she dealt with it. She missed the relative sweetness of the wine she’d left at home. As her eyes wandered around the room, she noticed small signs of the boys here. A book she could hae sworn she'd heard Murphy mention to her before, a mug with some coffee left at the bottom, a pair of shoes thrown in the corner. What really drew her attention were the photographs; several of Bellamy and Octavia, several of Bellamy with seemingly assorted friends including one with Murphy. None of just Murphy though. As she looked, Murphy cleared his throat. 

“Tell me the worst thing you’ve ever done to somebody Clarke.” He said it so casually, Clarke almost assumed he’d misheard him. He was so nonchalant, but he was asking for her biggest regrets. Her tightly held secrets. Her deepest shames.

“Unintentionally or intentionally?”

“Ooh, options. Knew you wouldn’t be boring. Let’s go unintentionally, they’re usually worse.” Clarke contemplated in her case if that were true.

“When I first started working at the club, there was this guy. Finn.” Clarke could still picture him the first day they’d met, puppy dog eyes with a 1000-watt smile, stage charisma like nobody she’d seen and everything Clarke thought she wanted in a guy. “We started dating pretty quickly, but something always seemed off.”

“There’s always something wrong.” Murphy interjected, before drinking more. Clarke considered her previous relationships and decided maybe Murphy was onto something. 

“Apparently so. He didn’t want people at work knowing, which I was okay with. He said it was about privacy, professionalism. But he hardly wanted me to speak to him at work. He was constantly busy, changing plans last minute, always wanting us to stay in the house and to not go out to places together. I thought for a while he was ashamed of me, I was going through a rough time and I figured he thought he was out of my league or something.”

“Bullshit.” Murphy said, which Clarke was grateful for.  He didn't look at her though, his eyes were directed at his phone which had just buzzed. The message popped up, and he immediately looked away. Not Emori.

“Whatever. He mentioned the club’s trainer a lot, said they were childhood friends. I never worked prep shifts like I do now, so I’d never met her. Not until the day she decided to perform too. Raven used to only train our workers, she worked at a different place at night but then she switched when our place offered her more money. She walks in, and Finn sees her. And they kiss. Which is perfectly acceptable when you’ve been dating for over 4 years.” Murphy looks surprised, mostly at the reveal that Raven had been involved.

“Of course, nobody knew we’d been dating for almost 6 months. I ended things, obviously, and gave him some time to tell Raven. He chose not to, so I did. Things were real messy for a while, he quit, and eventually she forgave me. Raven is a saint for doing that.” Clarke meant it. Few people could do what Raven did.

“So, you worst thing you’ve ever done was to accidentally fucked a taken man?” Murphy clicked his tongue, disappointed. Clarke almost laughed at how unimportant he seemed to find one of the most defining moment of her young life so far. Finn taught her how stupid love could be. When Lexa came around, Clarke was so closed off everything was so numb to her. Lexa helped a little, but eventually things blew up between them as well.

“You said unintentional. I didn't know what I was doing.” Clarke realised her glass was empty as she raised it to her lips, and when Murphy did too, he filled it back up again. Clarke could feel the effects start slowly, mixed with the wine, and it was actually building up fast. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to get drunk, but after the week she was having, she wanted to drink. And Murphy needed comforting, and therefore company in his refreshments.

“Fine. Intentional.” He demanded while Clarke stared, almost challenging if he was serious. Every ounce of her body screamed at her to tell him, because burden is heavy alone, but the idea of someone else knowing was nearly as terrifying. She would never say anything, once she admitted what she had done, that was it. 

“You tell me about the date first.” She deflected, but Murphy shook his head. He stood up, moving himself and his bar-like stool to the other side of the breakfast bar. He poured out equal measures in both their glasses.

“We’re going to play the Murphy version of Truth and Dare.” He stated. Clarke tried to determine how drunk he was. Was he on 8 or 9 drinks now? How many was she on compared to him? It was hard to focus on the conversation, and on the amount of refilling her glass Murphy was doing. 

Murphy continued, “It’s called Truth and Drink. No Dares. You ask the other person a truth, if they answer, you have to drink. If they don’t, they have to drink.” Clarke nodded, seemed simple enough even thought it would get them drunk very quickly at her estimate. “I’m first. Clarke, what did you want to be when you were older?”

“I wanted to be an astronaut. I always wondered what it would be like to live among the stars.” Clarke said, with utmost seriousness. She loved the night sky as it kid, she drew constant pictures of it. Was that really what he was asking? He nodded, clearly amused by her response. He prompted her to ask her question. “What was your first crush like?”

“Jade.” Murphy’s eyes looked upwards as if he was picturing her. “I was 7. She had bright orange curls and a gap between her two front teeth.” Clarke sipped.

“What made you leave West Downs?” He continued. Clarke allowed Murphy’s stare to go straight through her. Why couldn’t he have just asked an easy one? She shook her head once, then downed her drink. She couldn't talk about it.

“Okay.” Refilling her glass, Murphy didn’t say a word. He silently accepted her unwillingness and didn’t push. She appreciated him for that.

They carried on their game, sticking to simpler, less invasive questions for a while. Clarke felt herself loosening up, the alcohol dancing through her system slowly but surely. Murphy seemed to be experiencing the same thing. After a few hours had passed, he insisted they move to the floor, so Clarke dumped her jacket on the counter and positioned herself opposite of him and cross legged. She giggled, which had been quite frequently that evening. 

“What?” Murphy laughed at her, amused by such a seemingly odd gesture. 

“Doesn’t it remind you of school assembly?” She gestured at their seating arrangement. Murphy laughed again, but it was a different kind of laugh. More forced. 

“I never really went to those. Juvie and all that.” Clarke felt guilty, she hadn’t considered that Murphy would have had such a different life experience to her. It was difficult not to assume he went through everything she had done that was just so given in her world. School, dances, the sex talk and all of that was things Murphy would never understand in the same way. No wonder the dude was so closed off, how could he possibly see people in the same way as her? 

“Tell me about your date Murphy.” Clarke insisted. She wanted to know.

“I fucked up.” Murphy smacked the palm of his hand into his forehead. “She asked me questions about my life, and I had so little to say. I can’t talk about my family, my childhood or my fucking _career plans_. I have a record, the jobs I could apply for could be listed on one hand. I really tried to ask her questions, but every time she’d ask me one, and I just couldn’t say shit about me. I don't deserve somebody like her.” Clarke’s heart ached as she watched Murphy torture himself like this. He was beating himself up when he didn’t have to.

“Emori won’t care about your past Murphy.” She insisted.

“I could see it happening.” Murphy’s voice twisted as he struggled to actually say it. He clenched his eyes shut, as if blocking the thought out. “I _killed_ someone Clarke, I don’t deserve to be treated normally! I’m not the good guy. I don’t get the girl. I don’t get the house with the picket fence and the dog and the backyard with a swing and a kid. _Murderer_ is all I’m ever gonna be. And that's what I deserve.”

“Bullshit!” Clarke leaned forward and grabbed at Murphy’s wrists. He opened his eyes in shock, staring at her in bewilderment. Her voice was harsh, filled his more anger than he'd heard her use before. 

“What?”

“I said, that’s fucking bullshit! Who says you don’t deserve that? Who is stopping you? If that’s what you want, fucking go get it. Figure it out. Talk to the girl, risk rejection a fucking dozen times if that’s what it takes. But you don’t get to say you don’t deserve it. Nobody deserves that shit. Not one single person on this goddamn planet deserves any of that stuff, but they get it. There are no good guys, okay?” She was dead serious. It crushed her to hear anybody speaking of themselves like this. She’d be damned if Murphy was going to give up on everything before even trying.

“You swear a lot when you’re pissed.” Murphy pointed out after a long, silent pause. She let go of his wrists, but as she did, Murphy grabbed one of her hands and gave it a tight, quick squeeze. He locked onto her eyes and the corners of his mouth turned up a fraction. 

“Bellamy said that too.” Clarke finished the last of her drink, mad at herself for saying his name. She’d been so careful to avoid thinking about him this evening.

“He’s observant.” Murphy mused. “Spends an awful lot of time observing you I’ve noticed.”

“Not this again.” Clarke groaned, rolling her eyes and trying to think of some way of avoiding the conversation. Despite this, her interest was peaked at Murphy implying Bellamy was paying close attention to her.

“I’m just pointing it out.” Murphy put up his hands defensively, then poured Clarke and himself another drink. They clinked their glasses before both downing the liquid. Clarke could hardly taste hers anymore. It was past 3am and she was beyond drunk.

“Look me in the eyes and tell me you’re not interested in Bellamy.” Murphy declared, and Clarke felt panic arise in her. “Do that, and I’ll shut up about it forever.” He challenged her. Clarke leaned forward, staring into his eyes. She waited a few seconds and tried to form the words.

“Fuck!” She cursed, leaning back and shaking her firsts a few times. “Yes. Okay. I don’t know why, because he’s a jerk, but yes, I’m interested in Bellamy. I want him…bad.” Clarke admitted, both to herself and to Murphy. “I hate this feeling, but fuck, I don’t know what to do to get rid of it!”

“You could fuck him.” Murphy said, his tone light and casual as if he had just suggested she give him a handshake.

“No!”

“I’m not suggesting you marry the guy.” He snorted. “Just fuck him. Relieve some of the sexual tension.” Thoughts of doing just that filled Clarke’s mind. Sweat glistening off his torso she’d admired so many times now, her hands sliding down his toned back as he moved rhythmically on top of her, her fingers threading into his hair that was finally loose while his head was between her thighs, her moaning his name into his neck as she finished.

“Clarke.” Murphy snapped his fingers in front of her face as she came back to reality. Her body was on fire at just of thought of the experience, what would the real thing do to her? Not that she’d ever find out. “Stop imagining it!” Murphy shuddered.

“I’m not.” Clarke said, but her drunken state made her lie pointless. How did he read her so well?

“Look at us both, idiots crushing on co-workers.” He said, amused while Clarke grimaced at the word _crushing_.

“How did we end up in this mess?”

“Drinking is my excuse.”

After a few moments of silence, Murphy burst out laughing. “Maybe…we should fuck instead.” He said, sounding serious. Clarke realised what he was doing and played along.

“Oh yeah, take me now Murphy.” She gestured to his door and Murphy smirked, trying not to be the first to break.

“Don’t tempt me.” He winked, playing along. Despite the stupidity, he wanted to win this little competition, so he went for gold, he leaned forward towards her. She remained where she was for second, then snapped her head back, laughing uncontrollably.

“Damn.” She shook her head.

“Never play chicken with John Murphy.” He warned, and although she was having a laugh, Clarke could feel the late hour and drinking finally catching up with her. She yawned, causing Murphy to as well. He looked at the clock on the kitchen wall.

“Fuck. Wanna stay over? You can take the bed, I’ll take the sofa.” Clarke accepted the offer to stay over, but she argued with him about the bed. She returned the glasses to the counter, figuring washing up could wait until the morning. They went into Murphy’s room to grab the spare bedding, and Clarke was still protesting about the sleeping arrangements. They were just about to start a battle of rock, paper, scissors to decide when they heard the door of the apartment open and Bellamy walking around.

“Go on, now’s your chance to rid yourself of that tension.” Murphy whispered, gently pushing Clarke towards the door. She smacked his hands away, hushing him. It was a tempting thought in many ways. The vodka was driving her instincts now, and telling her there was no idea greater than waltzing out to Bellamy and having the sexual encounter of a lifetime. However, having Murphy there really made her aware that Bellamy was a co-worker, as well as reminded her of his behaviour at work. She ignored Murphy’s continued teasing until they heard the door to Bellamy’s room close.

Murphy won rock, paper, scissors so he gathered up the things he needed for the couch. Before he left the room, Clarke decided one thing her drunk self wanted to do was a good idea. She pulled Murphy into a hug, her arms wrapped around his chest and her head resting just under his. He hugged her back, a little thrown off by the human contact. He allowed himself to relax, clinging onto the material of Clarke’s shirt. He couldn’t recall the last time somebody hugged him like this, so filled with sweetness Murphy didn’t know how to handle it. He felt so touched that Clarke had been so accepting of him. He thought about the fact Clarke gave up her evening to come to see him. Something so simple, yet it meant so much to him. He never really had anybody he could rely on in the same way. He saw himself too much of a burden on Bellamy already to bother him with anything else.

“You deserve the world Murphy, don’t ever forget it.” She muttered into his shirt, and he half-smiled at her drunken state. He would have found it funnier had his eyes not been filling with tears. He muttered a good night before leaving the room quickly, not wanting her to see his face or any tears.

Clarke changed into the shorts and t-shirt Murphy had loaned her before jumping into bed. She hardly paid any attention to the room, except to notice a few stacks of books around. She was asleep the second her head hit the pillow, which she was grateful for. The last thing she wanted was the chance to go visit Bellamy’s room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you're liking it so far! This chapter was very Murphy/Clarke based, but I swear there's a logic behind this all! Hopefully this shows Clarke's character as somebody who wants to do right by her friends, plus there's also the bonus that she reveals her attraction. Anyway, thanks so much for reading, I'm very grateful to each of you, I've been so touched by the positive responses to this fic!


	9. The Morning After

For the sixteenth time that morning, Bellamy sat up in his head and contemplated going outside his room but then thought better of it. He sunk back under his covers, shoved a pillow over his head and tried to switch off. No such luck. Light streamed in through the gaps at the edges of his navy curtains, indicating his delay in bedtime.

He rubbed his eyes and checked his phone, knowing full well he had no messages having checked only a moment earlier. What was he expecting? A message from Murphy stating that Clarke was great in bed? A post-sex selfie? He scrolled through various social media platforms for a while, the only people posting at this time were bragging about the gym or showing off some fancy breakfast. Bellamy tossed his phone down, returning to simply pressing his face into a pillow and hoping he’d just pass out eventually.

He didn’t even care about the sex, or whatever was going on. He just hated how he was feeling. Why the hell was this bothering him so much? That was the question he really didn’t want to have to think about. 

Movement.

He heard it, movement outside his room. Bellamy sprang into action, no longer able to sit idly by and not set his mind at rest. He threw on a shirt and his glasses, already wearing pyjama pants, and opened his door quickly. Maybe he expected to catch the two of them in the act or something. Instead he saw a very panicked Clarke with a finger pressed against her lips in the kitchen grabbing her jacket while Murphy was fast asleep on the couch, wrapped up in a grey blanket. Bellamy’s eyes darted between the two of them, putting some of the pieces together. He obeyed the hush sign from Clarke and joined her in the kitchen, keeping his voice low.

Relief swept through his body like a river, leaving him feeling stupid and angry at himself. He hated that it affected him so badly, not just the anxiety and anger from last night but that he felt the right to any of these emotions in the first place. He was nothing to Clarke, and he’d never told Murphy anything, he was not entitled to feel a damned thing.

He glanced quickly at Clarke, his breathe catching in his throat a little. She was wearing a faded light blue shirt and jeans, nothing out the ordinary but it was the first time he’d seen her in clothes that were not for going out or work. Something about them just added a softness to her, she looked sweet and graceful as she slowly lowered her finger from her mouth and took a small step towards him carefully trying not to wake Murphy. Her golden hair was tied behind her head, but he thought she must have slept with it that way, because it was loose and falling out in strands. She had the smallest smudge of mascara underneath her eye.

Bellamy composed himself, deciding he should be the first to speak. She looked a little, dare he say embarrassed, to be seen in this situation. “Damn Griffin, that’s cold. Tossing him out onto the couch after you’re done using his body?” In his head though, Bellamy was doing a back-flip. Nothing could have happened. He’d misunderstood everything. All the details didn’t really matter, even though part of him was still curious.

“I couldn’t have him stay in the room, I wouldn’t have been able to control myself, we wouldn’t have slept a wink.” She looked like she hadn’t anyway, and Bellamy guessed there was likely a substantial amount of alcohol involved in whatever this was last night. Her tone was joking, but she still seemed uncomfortable. Her eyes were flickering up to Bellamy’s hair a lot, and he realised it must have been pretty messy after last night. It had returned to its usual mop of curls, engulfing his forehead and refusing to simply fall into a suitable position. He absent-mindedly moved his arm up to push them put of his face, but felt them fall back immediately. He never had this hair like this at work, it would drive him crazy having it in his eyes all night. Clarke watched this action like a hawk, and Bellamy allowed himself to smirk a little. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say she was checking him out. Her eyes slowly moved down his torso, and fell onto his arm. He was finally wearing a t-shirt around her too, so his tattoos were showing. On their own without explanation, they didn’t mean too much. Images that meant something to Bellamy, but not to other people. Bellamy moved his arm so she could observe them a little easier, and she took another step towards him to look at them.

“Do you have any?” He asked her quietly, and she shook her head, not seeming to care she’d been caught staring. He drank in his moment, Clarke bathed in early morning sunlight in his kitchen, her hair messy and her eyes sleepy. The stillness. The delicate way he could see her eyes gliding over his arms right now, not like the hunger-filled stares he got at work, but with genuine interest at the art he’d chosen for his body. He resorted to silence for a few moments, allowing himself to picture his scenario simply with a different set-up. A night where they’d shared his bedroom. Bellamy considered this, and his mind went to Clarke asleep in his bed, her hair spilling out over his chest and him, arm around her. He jolted back a little, making Clarke jump a little.

“Sorry. I need coffee. You want one?” He asked, quickly trying to conceal his thoughts even though he knew she couldn’t read them. She considered his offer for a moment, then nodded.  Bellamy cursed himself, trying to regain composure. Had he ever pictured a girl asleep in his arms before? It had certainly never happened before, where the hell was this coming from? He busied himself grabbing out mugs and putting on the machine. He remembered Murphy was there, and looked over. Still dead to the world.

“You kids partied hard then.” Bellamy stated, watching Clarke squirm at the thought. She nodded reluctantly.

“You could say that.”

“Get a booty call?” Bellamy was joking, but he wasn’t denying that he was curious. He passed a mug to Clarke, gestured to the cream and sugar he’d left out in case she wanted either. He added some of each to his, and she did the same.

“The opposite. Love Counsellor.”

“The date…?”

“Didn’t go well.”

“Oh.” Bellamy wasn’t sure what else to say. It wasn’t his place to pry further, Murphy would tell him when he wanted to. He yawned, turning his head so Clarke couldn’t see but she still noticed.

“Late night?” Clarke inquired, although she must have known he’d been working.

“Couldn’t sleep.” He flashed a quick smile, trying to act like it was normal, and somehow not related to her in any way.

“Can you two _please_ shut the fuck up?” A voice came from the couch, and Clarke immediately looked apologetic. Bellamy didn’t think and just gently pulled Clarke into his room, closing the door behind him.

“We can finish coffee in here.” He explained, immediately regretting his actions. Bringing Clarke into his room? Was he trying to tempt himself? Clarke nodded, taking a sip of her drink purposefully. She started to look around his room, and spotted something she liked the look of, rushing over to his bedside table at the photo of a young Octavia and him on there. Bellamy took the moment to look around the room. Other than a few pieces of clothes and some scattered history notes, it wasn’t too messy or scandalous. His room was pretty standard, he had a double bed with navy covers that matched his curtains. His wardrobe stood in the corner, closed. His desk was messy with his notes, laptop and stationary scattered around it as well as an orange peel he’d meant to be throwing away. A couple of old coffee mugs were lying around. He had a few shelves and that was about it. The photos of him and Octavia were most the decoration, with them on the walls too. The photo on the nightstand was his favourite though.

“This is adorable.” Clarke grinned, picking up the photo and sitting upright in Bellamy’s bed, legs up on the covers and back against the headboard. Bellamy resisted the urge to ask her if she’d like to take up permanent residence in his sheets. How easy it would be right now to kiss her, to see if she was experiencing the same thoughts Bellamy was. He sat next to her in the same way she was sitting figuring it was safe. His eyes flickered over at the photo he must look at every night before he goes to sleep. A young teenage Bellamy stood next to Octavia in a garden, both of them wearing costumes. He was wearing a clearly handmade costume, covered in scales and various mermaid-esque prints. He had a huge trident held in his hand, and Octavia had her hand in the other, grinning like mad. She had on a beautiful green dress on, with a bow and arrow and a golden wreathe in her hair.  

“First costumes she ever made. Halloween.”

“Who are you?” Clarke asked, a huge smile across her face. Bellamy looked at the photo with her, reminiscing.

“Poseidon and Athena.” He chuckled. “I used to read her all kinds of old stories when I was younger. Did she ever tell you I named her?”

“She never mentioned it. Octavia, eh? Big fan of Augustus then?” Bellamy sipped at his coffee, thinking back. He’d just been reading about Augustus, and liked the name. Octavia. Unique. Strong. He wanted those things for his little sister, and now she was everything he thought she’d be and more. Resilient, talented, caring.

“You could say that.” was all he said, smiling more to himself than Clarke.

“You must be so proud of her.” Clarke commented, and Bellamy felt his heart swell. Of course he was, more than anything in the world.

“It would be impossible not to be. She’s the thing I care most about in the world.” He wasn’t kidding. Clarke continued to stare at the photo as they both drank their coffee in silence. Bellamy leaned his head back on the headboard, hardly feeling the caffeine but instead feeling the drowsiness of not sleeping despite a long, exhausting shift. He placed his mug down and closed his eyes for a few moments, taking in what was happening and the events of last night.

**

When Clarke woke up, the first thing she saw was Bellamy’s bedside table. It still had her half empty coffee mug on it, and the photo of the siblings that she’d put back in its rightful place before deciding to close her eyes for a second before she finished the rest of her coffee and left. That was her plan anyway. Bellamy had seemingly fallen asleep beside her, and not wanting to wake him, she’d figured she’d just duck out. But it was so peaceful, and she was so comfortable and before she knew it she was also fast asleep. Throughout however long she’d been sleeping, she was now lying down on Bellamy’s bed, as was he, and he arm was resting over her hip and his hand gently touching her stomach. She glanced down, careful not to move. His body wasn’t against her or anything, he was simply facing her with his arm over her, but he was close enough to feel his breathe on the back of her neck.

A warm jolt went down her spine as his breathe tickled her. He must still be asleep. She remained still, uncertain of what to do. Should she just get up and leave? How long had she been in here? Was he going to be really weirded out by the fact she fell asleep on his fucking bed? With him in there no less. She grimaced. This was the worst thing she could have done, she was going to completely freak him out, as well as make things uncomfortable for herself and him at work. Could she even look him in the eye after this?

God, after seeing him this morning, being in his bed was at the top of her list for idiotic ideas she desperately wanted to do. The bedhead alone was enough to nearly tip her over the edge but along with the freckles, the glasses, and the tattoos? That was too much. She had to remind herself that Murphy was right there about nine times in their very short conversation just to stop herself from doing anything. She could have jumped him in the kitchen, regardless of her exhausted state. When she’d gotten into his room, she couldn’t take her eyes off the bed, so she’d grabbed the photo to remind herself that this was Octavia’s brother. Sure, she was curious about the photo, but it was mostly to distract herself.

Clarke sighed quietly, thinking out her next move. Of course, the situation she was in wasn’t exactly making her want to move any time soon. Cute guy cuddling her? It had been a while. It wasn’t like Finn was the cuddling type, and Lexa wasn’t either. The occasional spoon after sex if they felt it necessary, sure, but nothing simply for affection.

Quickly, Clarke felt she was a little twisted, enjoying the physical touch of somebody who didn’t even realise they were giving it. She began to move herself, the guilt getting too strong for her. She wasn’t even sat up before Bellamy spoke.

“Morning Princess.” He said, his voice low and mumbled. She flashed a look at him, half asleep, his hair messy and in his face. His eyes weren’t even fully open yet, but there was a smile on his face. She bit her lower lip. Fuck, did he know what he was doing to her? She stood up, longing to do anything but. She told herself she knew better than this, she was smarter than this.

“Sorry, I must have dozed off.” She muttered, flummoxed.

“No worries, me too. Were we spooning?” He sat up, smirking but still looking dazed. He looked down at his phone, checking the time. They’d been asleep for nearly 5 hours from what Clarke could see.

“No!” She burst out. “No, you just had your hand on me.”

“Apologies.” He nodded, genuinely looking sorry. He ran his hand over his cheeks and jaw as he yawned, but flinched when he ran his thumb over the bruise. Clarke took a second to take a look at it. It looked better, but not fully healed by a long shot.

“You working tonight?” She asked, then felt silly. She should just get the hell out of here, temptation should not be less than 5 feet away. Work was safe, they were always around people, no beds in sight.

“Drinks duty, yeah.” Of course, girl’s night. Clarke was working bar, and she was starting in a few hours to set everything up. She groaned, then realised Bellamy looked confused.

“I just realised I start in a couple of hours, I’ve got to get moving.” She explained, feeling bad that it seemed as though she was miserable he was also working.

“Oh, sure.” Bellamy seemed uncertain of himself for a moment. He stood up. “Let me show you out.” It sounded half like a question.

“It’s okay, I think I remember the way out.” She joked, but it sounded awkward. What was she supposed to do here? They’d just slept together (and not in the way she’d been thinking about). Did this count as a walk of shame?

“Is this the part where you promise to call me and I never hear from you again?” He said, cracking a smile and Clarke did too. He’d relieved a little bit of the tension.

“I’m sure you get that a lot.”

“Of course, every time.” A small laugh and then silence. Clarke cleared her throat.

“Thanks for the coffee and… the bed. Guess I didn’t realise I was that tired.”

“Murphy will do that to you.”

“See you at work.” She ducked out of the room, grabbing her jacket and shoes but not bothering to put them on until she was outside of the apartment. Luckily Murphy was not there on the couch anymore, because that would have been an uncomfortable situation. She wondered if Bellamy would tell Murphy what had happened, or if he considered what just happened something worth telling somebody about. More confused than ever, she headed back to her apartment, wanting another coffee and a hot shower. Her head was aching, her usual hangover routine had obviously not happened and she was feeling it. While she was glad she could be there for Murphy last night, she was kind of regretting it right now.

Clarke dove into the shower the moment she got into her apartment, glad she didn’t have to run into Wells and explain why she was wearing the same thing as the day before. That was a conversation she would hate to have, mainly because she didn’t even know how to explain her night. Called over by Murphy and ended up in Bellamy’s bed, how on earth do you explain that one?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, I apologise that it has taken me so long to upload! I headed on holiday for a week and a half, then on returning I had terrible writer's block. I hope this chapter is okay, only because it was tricky to write. I didn't want several chapters of the classic miscommunication leads to terrible results sort of thing, simply as I don't feel like it's the right time for that kind of story. 
> 
> Anyway, I hope you liked it, feel free to leave a comment, I've loved hearing your feedback. Thanks to everybody who's left a comment so far, I'm actually gonna start replying to some, as I like being able to communicate with you all!


	10. Sweet as Syrup

Bellamy leaned over the bar for the tenth or so time that evening, listening to Clarke finish her story.

  
“I swear, Jasper went flying! Right off the stage, into the laps of some random women sitting in the front row!” Her soulful laugh ran through the club so alien among all the aggressive beats and dampened spirits. Bellamy picturing it all, joined in, holding his sides.

 

“What happened then?” He finally managed to get out.

  
“What happened is now food is banned on that stage on penalty of death. And I hear Jasper hasn’t touched whipped cream since.” Bellamy took Clarke in, her bright smile behind the bar, confident as she had been all evening. When she was behind the bar it was like a force came over her, she was organised, quick and relentless. She knew every action backwards, knew where everything belonged, and knew every question before Bellamy asked it.

  
“That’s unreal, completely unbelievable, I think you’re making it up Griffin.” He teased, wiggling his eyebrows and smirking. Usually, when he did this, she tensed her shoulders and rolled her eyes, but this time she just grinned. She caught Lincoln’s eye, who was working the waiter gig with Bellamy, and gestured for him to come a little closer. Lincoln had been listening in but silent up until this point, which was very much like him. He was never one for ease-dropping, but even he was curious as to what exactly was budding between the two workers. The romantic in him was hopeful, if not because it could soften Octavia's brother in regards to relationships.

  
“I was there, Clarke’s not lying.” He confirmed and Bellamy put up his hands in defeat. He’d mostly been messing with her, but a small part of him thought perhaps the stories were overdramatised. Only as her way of telling stories was so fantastical. They seemed too colourful, too intense for the place he saw around him. Maybe Clarke just saw this place brighter than it was.

  
When he’d arrived for his shift, he was so nervous Bellamy wasn’t even sure he’d have the courage to talk to Clarke, but there was no awkward silences or hushed discussions about boundaries or inappropriate behaviour like he’d been dreading. Instead, she was polite the moment he walked in. Not even just polite, she’d been going out of her way to help him with everything at work. It wasn’t a busy night, so she’d taken some time to explain to him the organisation system of the perishables behind the bar in case he needed anything. They’d also gone through how to refill the ice tray correctly and a few other odd jobs that he would need to be aware of.

  
Something about discussing work made it much easier to act normal for Bellamy, and soon they transitioned into discussing silly things she’d experienced working in Hidden Heaven. Bellamy had even talked a little about his old job, some of the weirder parties he was called out to, for example, the time he was sent on a job and when he arrived there was a room full of women, none of which were under the age of 60. A strange event, but they were excellent tippers.

  
Something Bellamy was noticing was that Clarke lit up most of all when she spoke about her friends. Everything she talked about centred around them and the love poured out of her in stories and anecdotes. Bellamy especially loved the stories with Octavia in them, because although he’d heard them before (most of them anyway, a few of the drinking ones had been left out), hearing them from Clarke made them seem new to him. It filled him with such pride to hear somebody talk about Octavia in such a positive way, and Clarke did exactly that. She gushed about the girl like her life depended on it.

  
“So, you plan on working here for much longer?” Bellamy questioned as they both stood in the small stockroom. Clarke had been showing him how to do an inventory check. She shrugged.

  
“I may carry on with school, do a post-graduate course. Maybe go into teaching.”  
“In Art?”

  
“Art History, I’d teach older students, maybe college.” She sighed, which confused Bellamy. From what he’d heard, she loved her degree. It was something else he liked about her, she was very passionate about what she did. He’d even seen her sketching sometimes, although she’d never shown him anything she’d done. Still, whenever he saw her sketch he just knew she should not be disturbed. There was also such a look of dedication on her face, an unwavering connection between her and her pencil as if it were just another appendix she controlled on her body. He admired that drive, that clear and undeniable love of what she was doing.

  
“What’s wrong with that?”

 

“Nothing. Teaching is good. Reliable.” The word came out deflated.

  
“Reliable?” Bellamy felt a pang of annoyance, considering he wanted to teach. He felt it was a great job, education was vital and teaching was always something he dreamed of doing.

  
“My mother always badgered me about having a safe career. I always wanted to be an artist. She said I’d never make it.” Her voice dropped in both volume and tone as she moved away from Bell and busied herself by looking at boxes he’d already seen her check multiple times. He’d never heard her mention her mother before. Now she had Bellamy's mind filled with questions that he refrained from bringing up now.

  
“Why wouldn't you?”

  
“Being an artist doesn’t pay the bills.” She didn’t acknowledge the question, instead, she seemed to be having an argument in her head, still avoiding looking at Bellamy. Nevertheless, he could see her pained expression and her lips slightly moving, likely silenty proposing the other side of the debate.

  
“It can.” He wasn’t sure this was exactly true, he had the typical image of a struggling artist working in Starbucks in his head. “You’re hard-working, I think you could do anything you put your mind to.” Her eyes flashed up to meet him finally. They narrowed.

 

“Thank you…that’s very nice of you to say.” She exhaled a breath, relief washing over her. “Wow, you’re actually not being a dick to me.”

  
“You’d be surprised how nice I am once I’ve already gotten a girl in my bed.” He winked, risking mentioning this morning. Her hand reached up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, and she didn’t speak, so for a moment, Bellamy thought he’d ruined the mood. Fuck, everything had been going so well. The back of his neck began to heat, his confidence shaken.

  
“Damn, you must be a goddamn gentleman once you’ve actually had sex with them then.” She joked. The apples of her cheeks slightly pinkened with her smile, and she darted her eyebrows up and down once, teasing. Bellamy cocked his head, taking it in.

  
“Why don’t you find out?” Bellamy regretted the words the moment they left his lips. His eyes bulged, and he felt his brain freeze, preventing any correction of the sentence to be uttered. He carefully watched as Clarke grinned and bit the left side of her bottom lip. She let out a short laugh, and Bellamy momentarily wished he could freeze the moment and savour it. The easiness of the playful discussion, the exact number of crinkles that forms adjacent to each eye when she laughed, the musky, acidic smelling room baked in florescent lighting. Everything seemed important enough to capture right now, because he didn't want to forget a single aspect of the situation.

  
“I hope the pick-up line you told Raven was better than that.” Relief swept through him, washing away the last of his apprehension.

  
Was he going crazy, or was Clarke Griffin actually flirting with him?

  
“Much better. You couldn’t handle it.” He leaned against the metal frames of the stockroom, watching Clarke straighten herself up and look directly at him as opposed to at the dull boxes like she’d been doing. She had a clipboard in her hand, and a pen in the other which was being slowly flicked around with her fingers. He watched as she rhythmically tossed the plastic back and forth unconsciously, wandering for a moment about those hands on him.

  
“Oh really?” She dragged out the “r” sound, challenging him. He felt his heart rate quicken, possibilities of where this could lead flashing through his mind. He had to remind himself to get a grip, this was his place of work, and his sister’s friend and his co-worker. On the other hand, this was exhilarating, and he didn’t think he had it in him to stop now. Curiosity as to how Clarke would react was too much of a motivation to stop now.

  
“If I used it on you, you wouldn’t be able to control yourself. It would all be too much.”

  
A wicked grin flickered onto her face. “You think one line is all it would take?”

  
“One line in addition to my ravishing good looks, dazzling personality and unparalleled wit.” She snorted.

  
“And don’t forget the unwavering modesty.”

 

“Did I forget to mention that?” A smile dangled from the corner of her lips at this playfulness, and Bellamy wanted nothing more than to steal it off of her and claim it as his own. That smile could teach the sun a trick or two about glowing.

  
“Clarke!” Lincoln called from outside the bar and Bellamy internally groaned as Clarke snapped straight back into work mode and left him in the stock room by himself with a head full of fantasies of better ways that conversation could have ended. He wanted to press the rewind button, again and again and again to relive every millisecond of that conversation until he knew it off by heart. He wasn't sure he heart could take it. It took a while, but eventually Bellamy remembered he had a job to do. He watched back to the bar to see Lincoln on the other side of the club and some young man with spiked up blonde hair leaning over the bar. He reminded Bellamy of the famous Salvador Dalí clocks painting. This man was melting onto the bar, appearing to be fused to it.

  
“Come on, it’s your turn to get your tits out.” There was a slur to his words, Bellamy could hear them as the final song faded for Emori’s set and she left the stage. Clarke looked visibly uncomfortable, standing as far away from the counter as she could, her shoulders tense. The opposite to melting. Bellamy told a stride in her direction, the sides of his vision a redder hue than usual.

  
“No, leave me alone or I’ll have you removed.” The stranger continued to melt, dragging his body over the counter. Bellamy felt his fury build as the man made kissing noises and pursed his lips. The stranger had money gripped in his hand tightly.

  
“Come on, I want you to strip for me, it’s a compliment!” Bellamy clenched his hand into a fist, and Clarke looked to the phone she could use to get the bouncer from the front door. She was clearly done taking this man’s shit, and she moved towards it as the man reached a hand over the counter.

_Keep it together._

  
“She said to leave her alone.” He snarled, and the man looked up at him. Bellamy joined Clarke by her side and squared himself up against the man. Clarke tried to shoo him away, assuring him quietly that she could handle it. Although he did not buy into the alpha-male dominance bullshit, he was having a hard time behaving with his head right now. All he cared about was making sure Clarke was alright, and that meant speaking the same macho-male shit as this man so nothing was lost in the translation. 

  
“Who are you to tell me to leave her alone? Her boyfriend?” The man laughed like he’d made the funniest comment in the world, throwing his head back, and Bellamy resisted the urge to punch him. Unlike Clarke's his laugh stripped colour from the walls and unsettled the furniture. They shook not from the loud music, but from the gravitational disturbance caused by the two men. 

  
“Actually, yes.” He said through gritted teeth, much to Clarke’s surprise. Her eyes were sending daggers to him, but he ignored her and placed his arm over her shoulders. He noted the ease in which she slot so perfectly into his pose, as if he had designed it himself. He was shocked Clarke didn’t pull away but instead wrapped her arm around his back and settled it gently on his hip. Bellamy felt calmer with his arms around her, making it easier not to throw a punch at this pervert.

  
“Bullshit.” The man retorted, but he backed away from the bar. “This place blows anyway.” He spat, before leaving with a huff and a puff. Bellamy kept his arm around Clarke, looking at her to see how she was doing after the wolf attack of a man. He wandered how many men came into this bar and attempted to blow down the home Clarke had built for herself from the counter. How many men had looked at her with hungry eyes, picking the pieces of the last woman they devoured from their teeth as they did so. His stomach flipped at the thought. 

  
“You alright?” He asked, his voice low. She nodded, looking uncertain for the first time that night. Bellamy wasn’t sure what else to do, so he wrapped his other arm around her into a hug. She didn’t pull away like he expected her to do, instead, she wrapped her arms fully around his middle and hugged back tightly. He relished in the feeling, like taking the first sip of coffee in the morning. That familiarity and warmth. 

  
“Thank you.” She said. “I could have handled it though.”

  
“I have no doubt, but I guess you’ve dealt with assholes like that too often in this job. Let somebody else do it once it a while.” He shrugged as she moved away, still looking a little lost. Lincoln came over to check on her, saying he only saw what was happening at the end and apologised. Bellamy took the quiet moment a distraction to check his phone, which Clarke had told him off for previously.

  
He read a message from Murphy;

  
**Apologies for the rudeness this morning, that Clarke gave me a killer hangover. She can drink me under the table, so I’ve madly fallen in love with her. You have 2 days to seduce her or she’s all mine ;)**

  
Bellamy rolled his eyes at this but could not shake his curiousity as to what had happened last night in more detail. What exactly had they been talking about? No offense to Murphy but his love life would not have filled multiple hours of conversation. After Clarke had recomposed herself, Bellamy tried to bring up the topic.

  
“So, you and Murphy have fun last night?” She nodded. “What did you two do, go out or…?”

  
“No, we just talked at your place.”

  
“About anything much?” Clarke narrowed her eyes at him.

  
“No, why? What did Murphy say?”

“Nothing! I’m just curious.” Bellamy tried to explain a little. “You were round so late, I figured you must have talked about something important.”

  
Clarke flashed him a wicked grin. “I get it, you’re wondering what Murphy said that got me into his bed aren’t you?” She teased, but it was met with a sharp “What?” from the side of the bar. Bellamy’s head snapped around and saw Emori stood adjacent to the bar having gotten dressed from her shift and come to say hello. Bellamy realised what was happening as Clarke rushed over to get close to Emori.

  
“No! Not like that, I just stayed the night at their place last night.” Emori looked so surprised, and her brows furrowed together as she seemed to be taking in what Clarke was saying. “I stayed in Murphy’s bed, but I was just making a silly joke. He took the couch.”

  
“You’re more than welcome to him if you want, he’s clearly not interested in me,” Emori said, not bitter but matter-of-factly. Now it was both Clarke and Bellamy who exclaimed “ _What?_ ”.

  
“He couldn’t get away fast enough on our date last night, firing questions at me like an interview and then he left within an hour. He probably just asked me out because he left weird about kissing me on our night out or something.” She shrugged.

  
“No! That’s not… He didn’t mean to act like that.” Clarke struggled to explain. “He really likes you.”

  
“He’s got a weird way of showing it.” Emori sat down as Clarke passed a drink to a customer then got straight back into an explanation.

  
“He called me over yesterday because he was upset about ruining the date.”

“Why’d he do it then?” Clarke sighed, not sure of what she could say without breaking Murphy’s trust.

  
“I can’t explain anything for him, it’s his life. All I can say is the boy clearly likes you a lot, and he’s somebody worth giving a chance to.” Bellamy was not sure if he should add anything. He whole-heartedly agreed with Clarke though.

  
“I want to. He’s the first guy I’ve met in a while with any personality. He’s sarcastic, I like that. Great kisser. And even without stripping he’s hot as fuck.” Clarke nodded and Bellamy raised his eyebrows at her inquisitively.

  
“What? I’ve got eyes, I know Murphy is attractive.” Emori laughed with Clarke as Bellamy rolled his eyes. A slither of jealousy ran through him but he ignored it. 

  
“Just try and talk to Murphy, give him a chance to explain himself,” Bellamy said to Emori, and she nodded, thanking him for the advice. She fired over a text telling him the two of them should talk, but she left before Bellamy could find out if Murphy had replied. 

**

  
The end of the night came around, and the club was soon empty except for Lincoln, Bellamy and Clarke. Monty had headed off early as he had morning classes the next day, and Clarke was showing Bellamy the last few details of the stock room. 

  
“Can I head off?” Lincoln asked, and Clarke sent him on his way leaving them. Bellamy couldn’t resist an opportunity to tease, even though Clarke hadn’t exactly been in the same mood as early since the dude harassed her and everything happened with Emori. Still, Bellamy figured he could lighten her mood a bit.

  
“So we’re alone at last, Princess.” He joked, but she didn’t seem happy with him doing so. The night seemed to be weighing on her, and for once Bellamy did not know how to fix it because he was not directly responsible. 

  
“Just get the ladder so we can go home Bellamy, these are the last few boxes.” She looked over the list, mouth in a tight line. 

  
“I don’t need a ladder,” Bellamy argued, deciding it was not too high up for him to reach. 

  
“Yes, you do.”

  
“You don’t know everything,” Bellamy said a little shortly. He reached up, deciding to just be quick about it. He reached out his arm as Clarke yelled “No!” but it was too late. He grabbed the edge of the box and instead of sliding it just tipped, with about 8 bottles of flavoured syrup falling out onto the shelves. Two of which broke on impact to the wooden beams and flew all over Bellamy from head to toe. The other six came crashed to the ground as Clarke swore loudly. Bellamy had raspberry (from what he could smell, as well as it being bright pink) syrup dripping from his hair and all over his black clothes. He froze, the liquid felt horrible.

“For fuck sake Bellamy!” Clarke looked around at the amount of smashed glass everywhere. “Are you hurt?”

  
“No.”

  
“Why do you have to make everything so fucking difficult?” She raised her voice, and Bellamy didn’t like it one bit.

  
“It was an honest mistake, I’m sorry.” His voice was tight.

  
“Pulling the box down maybe, not listening to me telling you to get a ladder is fucking intentional!”

  
“I thought I could grab it.”

  
“Why, because you assumed you knew better than me?” She snapped, and Bellamy scolded at her.

  
“Obviously not, you know everything.”

  
“When it comes to this job, you better believe I do!” Both their voices were raised now, Bellamy was feeling horrible about the situation but couldn’t understand why Clarke was losing it with him. “God, why do you have to make everything so difficult? Now I’m the one cleaning up after you, _again._ ”

  
“What do you mean ' _again'_?” He spat out the last word as she started listing things on her fingers one by one.

  
“Who’s been the one to one to hide your bruises all week after you decided to handle things like a jackass? Who hid you from Jaha? Who fixes all your damn mistakes at the bar?”

  
“Please, like you don’t enjoy being the perfect little princess who comes along to fix everybody and their problems.” Bellamy had no idea where this was coming from, he was so annoyed and he wasn’t even sure why.

  
“What?!”

  
“Tell me you didn’t love it when Murphy came to you after Emori? Or when Monty comes to you about Jasper? Or when everybody in here comes to you with their issues. Tell me you don’t love being the one fixing everybody else.” Bellamy regretted what he was saying, and he hated himself for saying it. He just couldn’t think straight.

  
“You don’t know what you’re talking about, you don’t know me or anything about this place. Just go fucking clean yourself up Bellamy, while I clean up your mess. Again. Because I clearly love it so much.”

  
“Fine.” He clenched his jaw.

  
“Fine.” He heard her say it, but his back was already turned to her as he walked away. He brought his hands up and shoved them against his face, groaning. What had he done? Why would he say any of that?

He made a beeline to the back and stripped off his clothes that were covered in gross, sticky, raspberry goo. He looked in his locked and pulled out a spare t-shirt and found his professor trousers which were long and suitable enough for the walk home. He touched his hair, realising it was also covered and decided a shower was the best course of action. He turned it on, appreciating the small level of heat the water had and quickly wash everything. He grabbed Jaspers clean towel as he didn’t have one and he knew Jasper would, making a mental note to apologise to Jasper tomorrow and bring it back washed.

  
Before long he was syrup free, so he dried off quickly and threw his clothes back on. He ruffled his hair with the towel to mostly dry it, taking his time as he figured Clarke would have left by now and maybe left him the keys. He’d seen her lock up and knew the alarm codes, and she must know that. He packed the towel into his bag and headed out, feeling annoyed at himself as he head span from the events of the evening.

He stopped the moment he entered the main club and realised Clarke was stood patiently waiting for her. A moment of silence.

  
“I’m sorry.” Clarke began, but Bellamy shook his head and stopped her talking. He placed his bag down so that he could raise his hands up a little.

  
“No, I’m sorry, you were right. I’ve been a dick 90% of the time to you and expected to help me anyway. I would have gotten fired from the best job I’ve had in a while without you and in return I’ve not listened to you and I’ve mocked you and whatever else I’ve done.” He walked towards her, enjoying the look of partial confusion spread across her face as she took him in. “I shouldn’t have said those things, and you’re right, I don’t know you.” Her eyes flickered to the floor, then back up to him. Her hands were wrapped around herself, and Bellamy couldn’t tell what she was thinking at all.

  
“Bellamy…”

  
“But I’d like to.” He added.

  
He only caught a glimpse of the determination on her face as she took two fast steps towards him, brought her hands up to his neck and pulled his face down, pressing her lips on his and kissing him with more intensity than Bellamy thought he’d ever been kissed before.

  
He instantly responded, too focused on action to pay attention to any one of the million thought flying through his mind. He wasted no time in moving his arms around her running them down to the tops of her tights and picking her up so she was at his height. She wrapped her legs around his hips, moaning against his mouth which Bellamy rejoiced in. Her hands threaded through his still damp hair as he pressed her more into him, feeling her whole chest pressed against his. As he nibbled on her bottom lip quickly, he made his way over and settled her down on the bar where he could bring them closer still and move his hands. He trailed them up her back as he broke away from her mouth to plant kisses along the bottom of her jaw and down her neck. He sucked gently on the curve where her neck met her shoulders, and she moaned again. Goddamn music, he thought to himself.

  
She ran her fingers over his cheek careful of his jaw, which he was vaguely aware had been aching during his, but it was the least of his cares right now. He was willing to bet he could be bleeding out and he would want to kiss Clarke despite any pain. He revelled in the kiss, the feeling of her mouth, the warmth of her skin, the softness of her hair. Fuck fireworks, this was sprinklers on the 4th of July, no loud aggressive explosion followed by another, just continuous burning joy.

  
Her hands made their way underneath his shirt and brought it up above his head, taking it off completely. He smiled as he kissed her, their teeth banging together slightly as she did the same. He took a second, moving his head back a couple of inches and staring at her. Those blue eyes tore back into him, both their breathe both quicker than usual as he uttered one word; “Beautiful.” Nothing else, but he said it like it was her name, with such certainty, as if the concept itself belonged to her and not a single thing could posses the quality simultaneously. He couldn’t imagine anything in the world being as beautiful as Clarke. She was the definition of that word now.

  
He kissed her again, but gently this time, taking his time with brushing his lips over hers and felt her relax into him, against his body. Soon, he couldn’t help himself and was kissing her with zeal again, because he was too hot and bothered and she was driving him insane. He started to unbutton her black work shirt from the bottom upwards, kissing her while he did it so he was fumbling around a little. She didn’t seem to care, she was too engrossed in the kiss to notice. Her hands ran slowly down his back and he groaned against her shoulder as she kissed his neck with enough passion to leave a slight mark. He’d managed about half of her buttons when suddenly, they heard a clicking noise from the front. Clarke’s head snapped up and she moved away from Bellamy as much as she could considering she was sat on a bar.

  
“Fuck! Jaha!” She informed him. _Shit._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A longer chapter as I know it's been a while but I'm hoping it's worth it! Please let me know what you think, I'm kinda nervous about this one!


	11. One too Many

As Bellamy throws his shirt back over his body, Clarke prepared for the tidal wave of disaster that was ready to hit her and knock her back to the ground. She could not recall an encounter she’d had before that made her feel weightless, but she was fully convinced she was addicted to the feeling already.

Clarke had hopped down from the bar and tucked the bottom of her shirt in without bothering with the buttons. Footsteps drew closer and she sucked in a breath, daring to shoot a look at Bellamy to see if he looked peculiar. He was dressed again, hair still wet but otherwise regular looking. As Clarke allowed herself to glance at the lips she had just tasted she realised there was still purple on his chin.

She lowered her voice, “Get behind the bar.” She gestured at her own chin, and watched the realisation spread across Bellamy’s face. He sped through the open entrance to the bar and ducked down just as Jaha became visible in the corner and he caught sight of her.

“You’re here late.” He stated with no preamble.

“Finishing up side-work, training the new boys takes up the usual allotted time.” The lie came out easily, and Jaha continued his stride towards the bar without any hesitation. “You’re not usually here this late.”

“I left some forms in my office, I need them for tomorrow morning.” Jaha did not head over to his office however, instead he took a place in front of Clarke. “I have not seen my son here much recently. You wouldn’t have anything to do with that, would you?” Clarke felt the room lower in temperature, the coldness of Jaha’s voice creeping its way up her spine, leaving her hair standing on edge.

“No.” His eyes pierced her, checking for lies. Clarke stood her ground. Her heart had been racing before, but now it was thudding so fast she swore Bellamy should hear it from behind the counter.

“How’s your mother?” Jaha shifted his tone, the forced sweetness in his tone rotting the words before they reached Clarke’s ears. Her gut twisted.

“Fine.”

“Good.”  He ran his finger over her cheek and watched her recoil from his touch. She wondered if he enjoyed it. “I was just thinking about how disappointed she would be if you lost your job here, or if-” Fearful that Bellamy would hear anything, she risked cutting Jaha off.

“I don’t know what’s happening with Wells.” Clarke worried for a moment that Bellamy would try and defend her again, and she prayed he wouldn’t be stupid enough this time.

“As you said. I should get those forms; let you finish up your work.” Clarke did not allow herself to breathe until Jaha had walked away into his office and let out the front door without saying another word. Bellamy remained hidden the entire time, and she thanked the stars he didn’t do anything. The moment she heard the click of the key rotating, Clarke exhaled and rushed over to the bar. Bellamy looked so concerned as he stood, he gripped onto her arm almost immediately and looked into her eyes with a look of such intensity.

“Are you alright?” She could tell he had so many questions, and she had no interest in answering them.

“I’m fine. We need to wait here for a few minutes to make sure he’s gone.” Clarke was trying to keep her hands from reaching out to him, from touching him so she moved away. She didn’t want to touch him like before, in which she simply could not hold up the wall to her desires for another second, and they’d come crashing down when she’d caught sight of him, hair wet and apologetic (she blamed Hollywood movies for teaching her rain and a wet man was romantic). Where they were all heat and passion and not an ounce of uncertainty. No, this was a craving to be comforted. To be held in his arms and reassured. To shut out the rest of the world from their embrace and for there to be nothing but the two of them.

“How are you fine? That sounded like a threat. What happened?” His voice was so thick with convern Clarke allowed herself a moment to appreciate something she’d not known before; Bellamy Blake cared about her. This momentary delight was crushed quickly by the reality Clarke did not want to face.

“It’s nothing to do with you, forget it.” The tension in the room grew until Clarke was feeling suffocated under the weight of it. Under the weight of all these secrets, all everything she’d ever left unsaid. She needed to get out of the club, or she was sure the walls would start to talk and spill her secrets.

“But-“

“Bellamy…” _I messed up. I don’t know how to fix it. I want to tell you everything but can’t._ So many possible responses that begged to be used, but Clarke denied them all. “We should leave.”

“If he’s threatening you-“ Clarke did not wait for him to finish, instead she grabbed the keys from the table and headed to the door. She heard him storming after her. They exited, and Clarke ignored him while she locked up properly after Jaha.

“Clarke, talk to me.” Bellamy said, his voice quiet, mirroring the early morning stillness.

“No.” Her voice did the opposite, disturbing the quiet and rippling out from her, stretching to the end of the street, crashing into the buildings like waves. How people did not wake up to the sound of her denial, she did not know.

“So, what? What does that mean?” She scanned his face, hoping for anger but she was met with hurt. Anger was so much easier; it was what she was good at. She was angry at the whole damn fucking world all the time. How could she not be?

“Nothing… I’m sorry, this was all such a mistake.” The words hit his chest, and he took a step back to steady himself.

“Seriously?” He touched his lips, as if reminding himself of what had just happened. “Clarke, that kiss was something else. You can’t tell me it was just some stupid mistake.” Clarke forced her eyeline to meet his and bathed in the warm honey-dew stare for a moment.

“I’m not denying what just happened or how…” _Earth-shifting it was._ “much I enjoyed it. It just shouldn’t happen again.”

“Because it would cause problems with Jaha? Clarke, the world exists outside of that club.”

“I know.” Clarke clenched her fists, protesting the feeling to reach out to him again. “But we don’t. I’ve been here before. I won’t do it again. This isn’t just because of Jaha, I don’t want this.” Another hit, another step back.

“I don’t understand.”

“I don’t know how to explain it. It was _just_ a kiss.” Knockout.

“Right.” He nodded, refusing to look her way. “Won’t let it happen again. Co-workers.” He started to walk away but turned back after a few moments.

“Thank you for hiding me from him.” A coy smile crept onto his face, and Clarke knew she was in trouble. “For the record…that might have been the best kiss of my life.” He left Clarke with her jaw ajar, and her pulse racing. Every bone in her body screamed out for her to rush over to him but her head knew how badly things would turn out.

Clarke knew she was the Medusa of lovers; every heart she touched turned to stone. She wouldn’t do that to Bellamy, he was nothing _but_ heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a short chapter, but I hope you like it. You may notice the shift in writing style (the past chapter has been edited to match too) and I hope it's not too off-putting. I wasn't happy with how I was writing the story, as I was trying to make it quite dialogue heavy, mainly to match the feel of the show. I didn't like this, and I'm now going to go through and edit the previous chapters to the best of my ability to ensure the writing is consistent. 
> 
> Thanks so much to everybody for their feedback, I have been overwhelmed by how sweet all the comments are, it really means so much to me!


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